


Daughter of Rebirth

by MissieMoose



Series: Zhu's Tale [2]
Category: Disney - All Media Types, Mulan (1998), Mulan II
Genre: Action/Adventure, Bad Puns, Demons, Developing Friendships, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Extremely Slow Burn, Family Feels, Heartbreak, Historical Inaccuracy, Humor, Loneliness, Mulan II (2004), Multi, Mythology - Freeform, Other, Pain, Physical Abuse, Self-Hatred, Spirits, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-04-07 19:30:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 141,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14088069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissieMoose/pseuds/MissieMoose
Summary: Four years after saving China from Shan Yu, Mulan’s life had practically returned to normal. But when the Emperor requests her help, she finds herself drawn into a different sort of adventure: With the help of Shang, the trio, and the mysterious Senka, they must protect the Empress and her daughters as they go into hiding from China’s newest threat. [Sequel to Daughter of Death]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I hope I didn't keep you all waiting too long for this and I hope you enjoy it just as much as Daughter of Death! If you do enjoy it, please leave a review; they really help keep us writers motivated :)

Humming to herself, Mulan waded her way through her family’s small flock of chickens. The hens were following her every step, but they never lifted their heads to look at her. Instead, they hurriedly pecked at the ground, gobbling up the feed Mulan was sprinkling for them. She couldn’t help but be somewhat amused by them, even though this was a daily occurrence.

“You silly things need to eat slower,” she told them, dumping the last bits of crumbs and dust onto the ground. “Otherwise, you’re going to eat so much, you’ll explode. And then how are we supposed to get our eggs?”

But they paid her no attention and continued to gorge themselves.

It had been nearly two and a half years since she had saved China. And, to her great relief, they had been relatively quiet years. Though she had been asked by the Emperor himself to be his advisor, she had gracefully declined; she wanted nothing more than to return to her family and go back to her pre-soldier life.

For the most part, she had done just that.

There had been times, however, when she found herself riding out with some of the village guards to deal with poachers or small groups of vagabonds. Her creative, out-of-the-box ideas were no longer found to be an annoyance, but rather, a great asset. Though she had been trained as a soldier, one of the guards had said, she was still fresh enough to see things from a commoner’s perspective while he and the others were too old to see things outside of a military perspective.

But becoming the Heroine of China had its downfalls: Potential suitors who traveled from all over China in hopes of bargaining for her hand in marriage. Almost all of them were a decade or more older than her. Grandmother Fa had lamented over the fact that a good portion of them were also quite unpleasant looking. More than once, she had made such a complaint within earshot of the suitor.

She had been more than thankful when father declined every offer for her hand. As he told her, he would continue to do so until someone of _her_ choosing came to ask.

That certainly was _not_ the man currently attempting to bribe his way into her father’s favor.

Poking her head around the corner of the wall, Mulan cocked a brow. The man, a son of some viscount to the south, was flailing his hands about as he went on and on about how marrying him would boost the family honor. He also promised to ensure Mulan a long, luxurious life where she’d never have to work a day in her life again. But her father’s face was expressionless as he watched the man—who had to be at least ten years older than Mulan—try to inelegantly beg his way into a marriage.

“I am sorry,” she heard her father say, “but my daughter’s hand will not be given so lightly. The man who someday marries my daughter must first prove himself worthy enough. If, someday, you save the whole of China, I may _contemplate_ such an arrangement.”

She had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing; that was the same answer Zhou had given to every single man seeking her hand. Their reactions had almost always been amusing and this man was no exception. He stamped on the ground and started to _demand_ her hand like an angry child. The whole while, her father remained calm and stone-faced.

“Are you quite done?” Zhou was finally able to ask when the man paused to breathe. “I do believe it is time for your afternoon nap.”

Mulan didn’t hear what the man said next; she had to sprint away from her spot so he wouldn’t hear her laughing. A few minutes later, her father came into the yard, a small smile on his lips when he saw how amused his daughter was.

“I take it you saw that… _charming_ display?” he questioned, his brow rising.

“Just the tail end of it,” she answered. “He took the denial in a _very_ mature fashion…if he had been a three-year old.” Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she turned and looked back at the chickens. “How many does that make so far this month?”

“Four.” He started to walk alongside his daughter as they made their way back towards the house. “But can you blame them?” he chuckled. “As the Heroine of China, you are a very desirable woman.”

Mulan gave him a long look, her brow rising. “One who _isn’t_ interested in marrying a stranger,” she told him, voice bland. “Let alone a strange who is old enough to be my father.”

He nodded, still smiling. “And that is why I have declined all offers for your hand,” he said with a bit of a chuckle. “ _So far_ , that is. Perhaps, one day, there will be a man suitable enough who asks.”

Opening her mouth to reply, Mulan found herself cutoff before she could even speak. “If you’re talking about that general boy, then you’ll be waiting a long time!” Grandmother Fa came out of the barn, brushing some dust from her dress. “With him being as shy as he is handsome and Mulan as shy as she is pretty, we’ll all be _long_ dead before they finally work up the courage to marry!”

“Grandma!” Mulan gasped, her eyes widening and her cheeks darkening. “I’m sure Shang has _plenty_ of women far more befitting a man of his status to consider marrying!”

Both Zhou and Grandmother Fa looked at her, their brows raised. “What kind of woman is more ‘befitting’ a man of his status than the very woman who not only saved the whole of China, but _exploded_ the last of the Shan line?!” Grandmother Fa questioned, her hands on her hips as she gave her granddaughter a scolding look.

Biting her lower lip, Mulan glanced away; her cheeks were still bright red. “Um…”

Zhou set a hand on her shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile. “Your grandmother is right,” he told her, voice gentle. “What you did for China has brought great honor to our family. It has also catapulted our family status from commoner to nobility. You should have no worries about not being of a high enough status to marry Shang _when_ he does ask for your hand.”

Mulan could feel her cheeks burning as she shifted uncomfortably. “Oh, looks like I forgot to feed Khan! I better go do that before he starts throwing a fit.” Before either her father or grandmother could reply, she dashed off into the barn, closing the doors behind her.

Grandmother Fa looked up at her son, her brow still raised. “See that? May as well drag them to the alter and force them to marry at sword point, they’re so shy!”

 

A heavy sigh left Mulan’s mouth as she leaned against one of the beams separating Khan’s stall from another, empty one. She watched as Khan looked up, his ears perking to attention as he saw her. He softly nickered at her, reaching his head over the stall gate to sniff her.

“Sorry, boy, I don’t have any treats,” she told him. Reaching over, she set her hand on his nose. “I kind of…rushed in here.”

Khan exhaled rather loudly through his nose before pulling away. He flicked his head back a couple of times before pawing at the ground near an empty bucket.

“I know, I know,” she smiled. “I’ll get you some food.”

Khan watched her as she picked up the bucket and carried it across the barn. Though she had worn a smile at seeing him, he saw annoyance in her movements and sorrow on her face. He sighed and shifted from one side of his stall to the other, making room for her and not just so she could feed him. By what he was witnessing, he could tell there would be a strong chance that she would, at some point, hug him.

Bringing the bucket of feed into the stall, she carefully dumped its contents into Khan’s trough; she didn’t want to spill any of it as his stall had just been cleaned. She hung the empty bucket up on a nail outside the stall and sighed, watching as Khan started eating.

Instead of hugging the stallion like he had expected her to, she instead grabbed a brush. Though he had moved over once more to eat, there was still plenty of room left for Mulan to slip in beside him and start grooming him.

“I know they’ve got high hopes that Shang will chose me for his bride,” she finally spoke, her voice quiet, “but he’s a _general_. Yes, our family is of a higher status now, but so what? Not only does he have more important things to worry about, but I’m sure he’s met _plenty_ of high-class women over the last two years.” She closed her eyes, feeling her chest grow tight at the thought. “Which is perfectly fine. He deserves someone who will better preserve his family’s honor.”

Craning his neck around, Khan blew through his nose at her, one ear raised while the other lay out to the side.

She pouted at him. “What? He does!”

Flicking his tail up, he purposefully swatted her in the face as he went back to eating.

Mulan rolled her eyes, going back to brushing. “I doubt he has any interest in me anymore,” she continued. “It’s been nearly a year and a half since we last saw each other and the last letter he sent me came almost six months ago…Even that seemed more…rushed? No. More detached than his other letters.”

Closing her eyes, she paused in her brushing and pursed her lips. “No, Mulan,” she scolded herself. “He’s a busy man and it’s up to him to not only recruit, but _train_ , an entirely new army for the Emperor. He’s probably just too exhausted to take the time to write a long, personal letter and, really, I don’t blame him. Especially if his new recruits were anything like _us…_ ”

As he chewed his food, Khan glanced back at her once again. He was pleased by her change in attitude regarding Shang, but there was still some sorrow in her eyes. This time, though, he knew it wasn’t because of Shang—this was a sorrow he had seen in her many times since returning from the Imperial City.

At times, he had felt the same sort of sadness, though it wasn’t because of a human.

“How do you think Ling, Yao, and Chien-Po are doing?” Mulan asked, trying to distract herself from her own thoughts. “We saw them almost a year ago, but it was only for a few hours. They seemed to be doing well enough then. I wonder if they’ve found actual jobs or if they’re still trying to live off their fame?” She quietly laughed, shaking her head. “I would hope they’ve gotten jobs by now— _especially_ if they hope to find those dream wives of theirs.

“Chien-Po would make a wonderful cook,” she continued, “or some sort of teacher. Maybe even a healer? He’s most definitely got the temperment for it.” She flipped part of Khan’s mane so that it rested on the other side of his neck.

“Yao would almost certainly choose some sort of physical labor for his job. Hauling things, chopping wood…maybe he’s taken up wrestling? He’d be _amazing_ at that!” She then quietly snickered and rolled her eyes. “It would also give him a chance to show off just how strong he is. I bet _that’ll_ impress some women.”

Khan couldn’t help but snort at that.

Shaking her head, Mulan let out an amused sigh as she brushed Khan’s neck. “And Ling. Ling’s—well, he’s, um—he’s a—” She frowned; what _was_ Ling good at? She did her best to recall anything he had bested people at. “Aha! He’s great at making people laugh! But I don’t think that would get him a decent job unless he managed to impress someone of noble blood. And he’s got good endurance! Maybe he’ll end up as some sort of courier?”

“And then there’s Zhu. Zhu would definitely be—”

Mulan suddenly fell silent. Lowering the brush, she closed her eyes rested her forehead against Khan’s side. He turned to look at her again, worry in his eyes, only to find her cheeks already soaked by tears.

“ _Dead_ ,” she mumbled. “Zhu would definitely still be _dead_ …”

 

~*~

 

Early the next morning found the Fa family just sitting down to breakfast. Mulan was filling everyone’s cups with fresh-brewed tea when they heard the sounds of a horse and rider out in their courtyard.

“Who’d be here _this_ early in the morning?” Grandmother Fa questioned, her brow rising as she picked up her tea. “Whoever they are, they mustn’t be too bright. I’d be sleeping in if I were them.”

“I will go see,” Zhou sighed, grabbing his cane. He slightly winced as he pushed himself to his feet. “Mulan, just in case, will you prepare another seat?”

She nodded. “Of course, father,” she said, leaning across the table to fill her mother’s tea. “Do you think it’s anyone important?”

Her mother shrugged, watching as her husband disappeared into the hallway. “Perhaps it’s another potential suitor?” she lightly teased. Next to her, Grandmother Fa snickered into her cup.

Mulan gave her a look. “Ancestors help me if it is…” she murmured, setting the teapot down. Getting to her feet, she went into the kitchen and started gathering the extra utensils and dishes. She could just barely hear her father talking to whoever it was who had arrived; what they were talking about, however, she couldn’t tell.

‘I don’t recognize the voice,’ she thought, leaning a bit closer to the wall. It was of little help; the voices remained muted. ‘Definitely a man, though. Too deep to be a woman or a teen. Ugh, ancestors _please_ don’t let it be another nobleman’s son…’

She had left the kitchen and was in the process of laying out the extra table setting when Grandmother Fa and Li half-choked on their tea. Turning around, Mulan found her father standing in the doorway, a smile on his lips. Beside him stood Shang, who also smiled—his, though, was a tired smile.

“Shang!” she chirped, her eyes widening in surprise. “What’re you doing here?” It took her almost every ounce of her willpower to keep herself from running over to Shang and hugging him. “And so early in the day!”

“Let him have a bite to eat first, Mulan,” Zhou told her, his brow rising ever so slightly. He then looked at Shang. “You _will_ join us for breakfast, won’t you, General?”

Shang’s cheeks turned a bit pink, but a look of relief washed over his face. “If it means I’ll get to have Fa Li’s delicious food again instead of military rations, then I do believe I shall.”

Li shifted her place setting down while Mulan moved Zhou’s a bit, making room for Shang in the center of the table. As he sat down, Grandmother Fa grabbed the teapot and filled his cup for him.

“Was it a hard journey?” Zhou asked, slowly spinning the turntable of food to see what there was. “You see quite tired.” He stopped it on a plate of dumplings.

Glancing up from his tea, Shang quickly set the cup back down. “Oh, no, sir.” Mulan couldn’t help but smile in amusement as she heard her father called ‘sir’. “It was an easy one, though I did run into some trouble with some bandits late last night.”

“Bandits!?” Mulan looked up from picking out a scallion pancake, eyes wide. “How many? How far from here? Did you get any injuries?”

He gave her a reassuring look. “Ten miles or so. But you needn’t worry. There were only three of them and they’ve already been thrown in jail.”

At that, Grandmother Fa waved her hand in a dismissive fashion. “ _Only_ three?” she joked. “You’d need _thirty_ bandits to make it even a _slight_ challenge for him.” She gave Shang a playful wink, grinning as his cheeks turned pink.

“Mother…please…” Zhou murmured, his eyes closing for a moment.

“How I ever raised such a boring son, I’ll never know,” she huffed, snatching up a fried dough stick and popping the whole thing into her mouth.

Li cleared her throat. “How have you been, General? It has been a while since your last letter.”

Having just bitten into a piece of scallion pancake, Shang found himself hurriedly chewing it so he wouldn’t be thought of as rude. “Busy,” he answered after swallowing. “Reforming China’s army is proving more difficult than I imagined. Thankfully, however, there were a few captains who were spared from Shan Yu’s wrath. Like me, they had been sent to train new recruits. So, at the very least, I didn’t have to worry about finding too many new officers.”

“Are the new recruits learning well?” Mulan asked, her head tilted ever so slightly.

“Well enough, now that we’re not in a war,” he chuckled. “As far as I know, though, no one’s figured out how to retrieve the arrow yet.”

At that, Mulan giggled. “Really? How long have they been training?!”

“Nearly a year!”

“Ancestors help me—a _year_ and no one’s figured it out yet?”

Zhou glanced at his mother and his wife; they looked just as lost as him. Reaching out with the back of his chopsticks, he grabbed a dumpling. “Care to elaborate on this ‘arrow’ training, Mulan?”

Her cheeks flushed somewhat. “Oh, yes! Sorry, father. When Shang first started training us, he shot an arrow into the top of pole.” She paused to sip some of her tea. “It was completely smooth with no handholds or anything. Using two weights on ropes, we had to climb up the pole and retrieve the arrow.”

“Sounds difficult,” Zhou commented, giving a small nod.

“When facing it the first time, it _is_ difficult,” Shang agreed. “It’s meant to force a person into thinking strategically—something all good soldiers should know how to do.”

Grandmother Fa cocked a brow. “And how did Mulan do it? Chop the pole down and get the arrow?” Her comment earned a good laugh from everyone.

Mulan rolled her eyes, but smiled. “No, grandmama: I twisted the weights together to form a single rope. I then wrapped that around the pole and used it to climb to the top.”

“Wouldn’t it have been simpler to just shoot the arrow down with another arrow?” Li questioned.

“I…didn’t even consider that an option, to be honest,” Mulan admitted. “But we had to use the weights in the process of getting the arrow.”

Shang chuckled. “You tie the weights to your arms, making it more difficult to hold the bow,” he explained. “That was the way _I_ got the arrow down.”

As he chewed his food, Zhou smiled. “And I suppose,” he said, mouth now empty, “if one were to also attach the weights to one’s arms, they could chop pole down.”

“So long as the weights were used in some fashion, any method of retrieving the arrow counts,” Shang agreed.

“That is a good way to teach an important lesson,” Zhou told him. “One that hadn’t been around when I was a colonel. Who was it that came up with it? Your father?”

Shaking his head, Shang took a drink of his tea. “No, sir. It was Commander Renshu.” Setting his cup down, he reached over and brought a zongzi onto his plate.

Zhou’s brow raised. “Renshu? As in _Renshu Niu_?” he questioned, sounding only somewhat surprised. Shang nodded. “Hard to believe Niu made it all the way to commander. I would have thought him dead by now…”

“Now, dear, you know it’s not polite to slight people during a meal, even if they’re not present,” Li reminded him, her voice a bit on the firmer side of gentle.”

Mulan looked between her parents, her brows furrowing in confusion. “Who is Commander Renshu?” she asked.

Grandmother Fa moved to take a few steamed buns. “He was your father’s lieutenant colonel back in the day. A bit of a coward and an as—”

“Grandma!” Li scolded.

“What? He was,” Grandmother Fa replied, shrugging.

“ _Regardless_ , the man had a knack for strategy,” Zhou told Mulan. “He wasn’t always the most pleasant of men to be around, but in the end, he always got the job done and was a dependable lieutenant colonel.”

Shang heartily nodded in agreement. “He can be a…a bit of a pain, to be frank, but he really does know his stuff. He’s even personally taught the recruits at the Imperial City a good portion of their lessons.”

At that, Zhou seemed impressed. “Has he now? Hm. It would seem leadership has done better for him than I initially thought.”

The meal continued on with Shang politely answering questions about his life and how the army was doing. In return, he asked the Fa family questions about how they had been. Most of Grandmother Fa’s answers came in the forms of flirtations, which he laughed off. Her humor was a lovely reprieve from the seriousness he was usually around.

When breakfast was over, he offered to help Mulan with her chores, giving him both time to tell her the purpose of his visit as well as some alone time with her. As such, he was left holding a bowl and following behind Mulan as she sprinkled leftover vegetable bits, seeds, and rice on the ground for the chickens. Not that he minded; it was a nice change of pace from leading men in their morning stretches.

“These chickens act like they haven’t eaten in weeks,” he chuckled, watching as the birds flocked around their feet.

“They’re _always_ like this,” Mulan smiled. “You would think with an entire yard and part of garden to hunt in, they’d be less…well, hungry.”

“Perhaps they’re so hungry because they’re always laying eggs?” He watched his feet, taking care to not step on any of the chickens.

“That could be,” she agreed. Glancing over her shoulder, she felt her cheeks turn a bit pink; Shang was still as handsome as ever even with his newly grown beard. But seeing him do something so domestic as helping to feed chickens instead of his usual military training made him seem all the more handsome. She forced herself to look away after grabbing another handful of feed. “So, um…You never did tell me why you’re here.”

He blinked, a bit taken aback. “Oh, yes… _that_.” Holding the bowl with one hand, he rubbed the back of his neck. He had almost entirely forgotten about the purpose of his being there. “The Emperor has a task for you.”

Mulan came to an abrupt stop and Shang almost ran into her. Turning around, she looked up at him with wide eyes. “A task? For _me_?”

Nodding, he gave her a small smile. “For you and a certain trio of troublemakers we both know. I can’t tell you the exact nature of the task,” he admitted, “but I am to escort you four to the Imperial City where you will receive more information.”

At that, Mulan cocked her brow. “So…you _know_ what our task is, but you can’t tell us?”

He nodded once again. “I have been sworn to secrecy.” He then playfully grinned. “And, _no_ , bribing me with your mother’s bean curd buns _isn’t_ going to get it out of me.”

She jokingly pouted. “Whatever it is, then, must truly be serious if I can’t bribe it out of you with those.” Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she let out a small sigh and smiled. “I suppose you’d like to leave today, then?”

“Not necessarily. We can leave tomorrow or the day after if you’d like.” Shang felt his cheeks grow a touch warm; the way the morning light was resting on Mulan’s face made her look quite lovely. “The Emperor doesn’t expect me back for another two and a half weeks.”

She was visibly impressed. “You must’ve made good time in getting here, then.” Taking the bowl from him, she flung the last of its contents across the yard.

“I may have taken a few shortcuts,” he replied, smiling. “Admittedly, it was because I knew I’d _finally_ get to eat some good food again.”

“Doesn’t the Imperial City have good enough food?” she laughed, making for the barn. “I thought it had the best of everything there?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Maybe the first few months you’re there. But once you’ve lived there and have eaten most of its foods, you start longing for homecooked meals shared with friends and family instead of strangers. It’s reached the point where I’ve started trying to teach myself to cook more than just eggs, rice, and soup.”

Mulan feigned a gasp, covering her mouth. “ _No_!” she teasingly gaped. “General Li Shang? Learning to _cook_?”

“I know! It’s _so_ horrible!” he laughed. “I’m much better at leading troops than cooking. Maybe your mother can give me some tips?”

She kept her mouth covered as she continued to giggle. “I’m sure she’d love to teach you,” she assured him. “Ancestors only know how much she enjoys teaching people how to cook.”

“Really?” He looked impressed. “I didn’t know that. Has she taught many people?”

Mulan nodded. “Many of the women my age know how to cook because of her.” A mischievous twinkle came to her eye as she turned to grab a pitchfork. “You’re not the only one who’s in love with her food.”

Going over to her, he took the pitchfork from her. “That I can believe,” he said, beginning to scoop soiled hay from the empty stalls. “Has she taught you how to cook, too?”

“She’s tried,” she admitted, moving to instead grab a broom. “I’m not the _best_ cook in the family, but at least my food is edible.”

“I’m sure you’ll get better with time.”

“Let’s hope. Otherwise, my future family is going to have extremely low expectations for what they consider ‘good’ food.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update because I can, lol. After this, I'll update this every two weeks~

Shang was glad he had taken all those shortcuts. The two days he spent with the Fa family had been a refreshing change of pace from his life back in the Imperial City. He found himself taking the time to actually _enjoy_ things again, instead of having to hurry through one task so that he could have time to complete another. On top of that, not many of the villagers knew who he was, leaving him feeling pleasantly unnoticed when Mulan took him to visit the market.

When the third day came and, with it, the time for him and Mulan to leave, he found himself feeling a bit sad. Of course, he kept quiet about his sadness; as a general, he had to be strong. He did allow himself to gush his appreciations to Li, however, when she gifted him with an entire _basket_ of bean curd buns for the trip back.

The next two days were spent mostly on horseback and were, thankfully, uneventful. Shang and Mulan spoke quite a bit, further catching up with one another. Shang, Mulan learned, was the youngest general China had had in nearly three hundred years. As such, he was under constant scrutiny by both his superiors and his subordinates. It didn’t help that his father had been well-loved by all; he was left with a constant feeling of needing to prove himself worthy of his rank. A silly thing, Mulan had told him, since no other general could train such a fearless army in so little time.

Mulan, on the other hand, spoke of how the village guard had come to her for help at times. Her life, for the most part, had remained the same—she had no reputation to uphold or superiors to criticize her. She did, however, have a small band of young girls coming to her to learn martial arts.

“Oh, I bet their parents are _thrilled_ about that,” Shang joked.

“They don’t mind _too_ much,” she smiled. “So long as I keep it to the basics and don’t keep them from their chores.”

“If you’re the one training them, I can imagine your village’s guard will be expecting some new recruits in a few years.”

She laughed, her cheeks turning a bit pink. “I can only hope. Now, if only the guards could keep the would-be suitors away…” Scrunching up her nose slightly, she frowned. “It’d be a lot easier for my father, that’s for certain.”

Shang frowned as well, his brows furrowing. “Suitors…?” He didn’t like the sound of that—not at all.

Mulan nodded, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Mostly rich, middle-aged men wanting to marry me simply because I saved China.” Her tone more than betrayed her disgust. “And if they’re not old enough to be my father, they’ve the temperment of a child. A _spoiled_ child.”

A wave of relief washed over him. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he told her. “It certainly sounds annoying.”

“It is,” she sighed. “Every few weeks, a new one seems to arrive. And every time, my father refuses them. Some have tried to bargain with him, even going so far as to offer him his weight in gold.” She shook her head.

“What do _you_ do when a suitor arrives?” he asked, his brow rising ever so slightly. “Or does your father handle them?”

“I mostly stay hidden from them,” she admitted. “The first few times, I went out with my father only to have the men scoff at me. Apparently, I look far too _plain_ to be the savior of China.” She chuckled, rolling her eyes. “They weren’t very impressed when I told them I was dressed as a man, either.”

Shang still wore a frown. “What?! You’re anything _but_ plain!” he argued. He then mentally kicked himself. “B-because, like you said: You were dressed as a man!” he quickly added, looking at the road ahead. “Very convincingly, mind you. Turn left up here, by the way.”

Mulan slouched somewhat, not sure whether she should feel complimented or insulted by what he had said. “Left?” she instead questioned. “But that’s not the way to Baoji. That’s the way to Moo-Shung.” Looking at Shang, she saw him wearing a somewhat mischievous smile.

“When did I ever say we were going to Baoji?”

Her brow rose. “You told me we were going to get Yao, Ling, and Chien-Po who _live_ in Baoji.”

He feigned a look of confusion. “Oh? You haven’t heard?” He did his best to resist laughing as an angry pout came to Mulan’s lips. “They found themselves steady employment at the camp. They’ve been there for nearly a year.”

Her eyes widened in pleasant surprise. “How did they do that?!”

“I _may_ have pulled a few strings here and there,” he replied, tone innocent. “Not to mention, the Emperor was _extremely_ impressed by their bravery when Shan Yu and his men invaded the palace. I think he even offered to let them keep the dresses they wore as gifts of gratitude.” He grinned as Mulan started laughing.

“Now _that_ I doubt,” she giggled. “I’m sure he gave them items more befitting of their deeds. They weren’t the…the _most feminine_ of concubines, after all.” She paused as she recalled the sight of the three men dressed in silk dresses and makeup. “Well, except Ling. Ling’s performance was terrifyingly perfect.”

Shang let out a hearty laugh, taking Mulan by surprise. “You thought so, too?” he laughed. “He even had the hip sway down!”

“And he doesn’t even _have_ hips!” she cracked up. “My gods, he even put _me_ to shame, and I was the only woman there!” Her laughter suddenly faded and, as Shang looked at her, he could see that she now wore a sad smile. “At least, I was the only woman in a _dress_ …”

He raised his hand, making to reach over and set it on her arm as a sympathetic gesture, but he hesitated, unsure whether or not it would be welcomed. Swallowing hard, he glanced at her before looking at the horizon. They were coming up on the bamboo forest that would take them to Moo-Shung.

“We’re almost to the forest,” he said, his hand lowering back to his side. He offered her a small smile. “How about a race? First one out of the forest doesn’t have to set up the tents tonight?”

The challenge seemed to perk her spirits. “A race sounds fun,” she replied, joy returning to her features. “The wager sounds good, too. I’d _love_ to not have to spend half an hour fighting my tent.”

Shang grinned. “Depending on who wins, you could end up spending an hour fighting _both_ our tents,” he joked.

Her brow rose and she now wore a challenging smile. “We’ll see about that.” Flicking the reins, she spurred Khan forward. “See you on the other side of the forest!”

As he took off, Shang let out a surprise cry. “Cheater!” he laughed, urging his own horse forward.

“You never specified a starting point!” Mulan called from over her shoulder, laughing.

It didn’t take the pair too long to cross the forest. Rather than exhaust their horses by having them go at a full gallop, they went between a trot and a canter. At times, though, they did risk going at gallop—but only when the other was drawing too close. As such, a normally two-hour ride was reduced down to little under an hour.

“And that is a victory for me!” Shang grinned, bringing his horse to a halt when they were clear of the forest. He looked over at Mulan as she and Khan came to a stop beside them. Khan, he saw, was breathing heavily, but still looked lively.

“Looks like I’m going to be fighting the tents tonight,” she replied, her tone theatrically defeated. Leaning over, she rubbed the side of Khan’s neck. “You put up a good fight though, boy,” she told him, smiling as she patted him. “We’ll get him next time.”

Khan snorted in agreement.

Also giving his horse a pat, Shang chuckled. “He really did. I’m actually surprised he was able to keep up with Jiang as well as he did.”

“He may be a farm horse, but he can be pretty fast when he wants to,” she smiled. She then looked out over the camp. A wistful sigh left her mouth. “It’s really strange, looking down on the camp again after two years. The first time I stood in this spot, I was a nervous wreck because I didn’t know how to act like a man.”

Shang nodded in agreement, chuckling. “And just a little while later, you had managed to cause a camp-wide fight.” He brow was cocked as he remembered their first meeting. “I had been so certain you weren’t going to make it through training.”

“Truthfully, I didn’t think I’d make it, either,” she confessed. “You were so hard on us. But you had to be—you _couldn’t_ go easy on us.” She closed her eyes and shook her head, a quiet laugh leaving her mouth. “It was hard. _Extremely_ hard. There were so many times I wished I could just go home…”

With her eyes closed, Mulan didn’t see the adoration that filled Shang’s face as he stared at it. “But you didn’t,” he said, “even when I _told_ you to go home. But I’m glad you didn’t. I’m glad you defied me— _twice_ , might I add.”

Mulan’s cheeks turned pink and there was shyness in her smile as she finally looked at him. “How else was I supposed to become your star pupil?” she teased. “I couldn’t let Ling, Yao, and Chien-Po have _all_ the glory.”

He laughed. “I’ll tell them you said that,” he told her, brow rising. He then nodded towards the camp. “We should probably head there now if we want to make it in time for lunch.”

“True,” she agreed. After she gave the reins a gentle flick, Khan started to walk down the hill. “So what kind of jobs do those three have here? I can’t really think of anything for them to do besides cooking, but that’s more Chien-Po’s specialty than Yao or Ling’s.”

“You’ll see,” he assured her.

She cocked her brow, a wry smile on her lips. She said nothing, however. ‘Let Shang keep his secrets,’ she jokingly told herself. ‘I’ll find out soon enough.’

Approaching the gate, she could see that it had been reinforced with a pair of sturdy wood doors. There were two gatekeepers now, both looking wide awake and alert; she remembered how, when she first came to the camp, there had been _no_ gatekeeper present for her arrival.

They brought their horses to a stop as the two men stepped into their path.

“State your name and your business,” the shorter of the two ordered.

“General Li Shang and Fa Mulan. We’re here on the Emperor’s orders,” Shang answered.

Mulan did her best to hold back a giggle as the two men gawked up at them. “May we pass?” she asked, her voice pleasantly polite.

“Y-Yes! Of course!” they stammered, practically throwing themselves to either side of the path. “Forgive us for not recognizing you!”

“It’s no trouble,” Shang told them as he rode past.

“You’re doing an _excellent_ job, by the way,” Mulan complimented, also riding past them.

As they entered the camp, she could tell right away that major changes had taken place. Not only were there vastly more recruits this time, but there were also more officers. With more superiors around, the recruits were dived into different groups; each group had two officers instructing them. These men also seemed more disciplined than the men she had trained with.

‘They’ve probably been here longer,’ she thought, her eyes widening somewhat. Unlike before, most of these recruits were all around the same age: Late teens to early twenties. From what she could see, only a handful of them were older than twenty-five. ‘And this isn’t a ragtag, thrown-together-at-the-last-minute regiment like we were, either. These men are starting young so come the next war, they’ll be hardened soldiers.’

Reaching the captain’s tent, the two dismounted. While Mulan tethered their horses to the post, Shang spoke with the guards outside the tent. One nodded before ducking inside while the other hurried off.

“Is it strange being back here for you, too?” Mulan asked, coming to stand beside him.

“Not too much,” he admitted, rubbing the side of his neck. “I’ve been to so many different camps over the last two years, they all start to blend into one another.”

“Makes sense.”

The first guard came back from inside the tent. “The captain will see you both,” he told them.

Shang and Mulan nodded their thanks as they walked past him, ducking into the tent. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the sudden change in light. When they had adjusted, though, she blinked in surprise at who she saw in front of her.

“Qiqang?” she grinned. “You’re a _captain_ now!?”

He smiled, his brow rising. “Hello to you, too, Mulan,” he replied with a chuckle. “Or should I call you ‘Ping’ again like old times?”

“Ha, ha,” she said, voice sarcastic. Her cheeks suddenly grew dark and her eyes widened with realization. She quickly bowed before him. “Forgive my rudeness, _captain_. I was surprised to see you again.”

Qiqang laughed heartily, also bowing. “You have no need to bow, Mulan. I’m the one who bows to _you_.” As they both straightened up, he smiled up at Shang. “General. A pleasure to see you again—though, I hear you’re here to steal a few of my men.” His brow rose somewhat as he spoke, but his smile remained in place. “Please, sit.” He motioned to the cushions laid out before his own seat.

“Just three of them,” Shang replied, lowering himself to the floor. “I hope you don’t mind _too_ much.” He glanced over a Mulan, watching as she tucked her tunic under her legs as she sat.

“I don’t think I have a choice in the matter!” he laughed. “If the Emperor requires their help, then so be it.” He scratched the side of his neck. “What sort of task are they being given?”

At that, Mulan feigned a sigh. “It’s apparently top-secret,” she told him. “Shang won’t even tell _me_ what it is just yet.”

She had expected Qiqang to laugh, but he instead frowned. “Is that so? It must be extremely important, then, if _that_ much secrecy is needed. Then again, with the current state of affairs…” He trailed off, a look of contemplation coming to his features.

Her brow rising, she looked at Shang. “Current state of affairs?” she repeated. “What does he mean?”

Shang opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, there was a rustle behind them and Qiqang looked up. “Ah, there you are, lieutenants!” he said, his smile returning.

Twisting around, Mulan found Yao, Ling, and Chien-Po entering the tent. All of them were covered in a fine sheen of sweat and were breathing a bit hard. Despite this, they were in good spirits that were only made better when they saw their friends.

“Mulan! Shang!” the three of them cried in unison.

Yao grinned and stepped forward to give Mulan a hug, but hesitated. “Er…we’d hug ya, but I don’t think you’d want t’ get our sweat all over your clothes.”

“We’ll hug later,” she chuckled. She didn’t want to admit it, but they did smell rather _ripe_. It was a smell she didn’t miss from her recruit days. “But did I hear Qiqang right? You three are _lieutenants_ now?”

Ling puffed out his chest and took on a proud stance. “You heard right!” he told her. “We’ve been helping Qiqang here whip some new recruits into shape!” He frowned ever so slightly, blowing a stray lock of hair out of his face as it tickled his forehead.

“It is a lot of work,” Chien-Po said, wiping off the top of his head with a kerchief, “and slow-going at times, but it can be very rewarding.”

“That is can be,” Shang agreed, his brow rising in amusement. “Now you three know what I went through when I was training all of _you_.”

Yao lightly punched his shoulder. “An’ we turned out alright in the end thanks t’ you,” he smirked. “So, to what do we owe the pleasure of your presence?”

“The Emperor needs our help,” Mulan answered. She couldn’t help but giggle as they looked at one another in great confusion. “Shang knows why, but he won’t tell us.”

Ling frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well that’s no fun. How are we supposed to come up with ideas on how to save China if we don’t know what we’re going to be going up against?”

“Maybe we’re not saving China?” Chien-Po suggested. “Perhaps he simply wishes to see us again?”

“The Emperor wouldn’t call _us_ all the way back t’ the Imperial City just t’ _visit_ ,” Yao countered. “Yeah, we’re heroes, but we’re not Mulan-level heroes.”

“I wouldn’t say _that_ ,” Qiqang laughed. “You three played a _huge_ part in keeping the Emperor safe. But, I digress.” He then looked at Shang. “Will you and Mulan be staying the rest of the day here…? Or would you prefer to leave as soon as possible?”

Shang looked at Mulan. “What do you feel like? We’ve got plenty of time before we have to be back at the Imperial City.”

“Let’s rest a day,” she said. “Give our horses a break after that race we had.”

“A race?” Yao grinned. “Who won?”

“Shang,” Mulan answered, “but only _just_. Khan couldn’t quite keep up with Jiang.”

He nodded in understanding. “Makes sense. Jiang’s meant for runnin’ and fightin’.” Then, sniffing the air, he frowned. Lifting his arm, he sniffed his arm pit only to make a disgusted face.

“We…should probably go bathe,” Ling winced, also smelling himself.

“That is an excellent idea,” Qiqang laughed, rising to his feet. “The five of you can catch up afterwards.” He looked down at Shang and Mulan. “Feel free to stay in here or wander about for the time being while I arrange some sleeping quarters for the two of you.”

“We have our own tents,” Shang told him. “You don’t need to go to the trouble.”

His brow rose. “It’s no trouble,” he assured him. “Plus, I’m sure the two of you would much rather sleep on a cot instead of the ground.”

Mulan nodded in acquiesce. “That does sound nice. Especially since it’s still only spring, the ground is still mushy in places…”

“Ugh, _mushy ground_ ,” Chien-Po cringed. “Nearly as bad as uncooked mushrooms…”

 

When night fell, it found the friends gathered around a campfire as they ate dinner. Mulan wasn’t at all surprised to find that the food was better than when they were recruits. With Chien-Po being an officer, he had made it one of his duties to ensure that the new recruits were well fed with _delicious_ food.

“It gives them less incentive to try to run away,” he said, smiling. “Especially those who are poorer. Not only are they getting three meals a day, but they’re meals that taste delightful as opposed to the stale or bland food they’re used to.”

“And so far, this has been the only camp without deserters,” Yao grinned, “so we know it’s workin’.”

Mulan lowered her bowl to her lap and wiped her mouth. “Well, it was a good idea,” she complimented. “I’m glad to hear it’s working so well. Do you do any of the cooking, Chien-Po, or do you just make sure there are quality ingredients?”

It took Chien-Po a moment to reply; he had just taken a bite from a wonton. “A bit of both,” he answered. “I’ve given the cooks some recipes I came up with before we were promoted and I showed them how to be more efficient with certain tasks.” He shrugged before pouring himself some more tea. “I would like to do more cooking, but most of my day is spent with the recruits.”

“Oh?”

He nodded. “I teach them how to meditate and how to focus their energy into keeping themselves calm on the battlefield.”

Mulan smiled, her brow rising as she glanced at Shang. “That would have been useful for us.”

Shang’s brow rose in return as he chuckled. “If I knew how to properly meditate, I would have taught you all,” he said. “As it turns out, though, I’m not the best at meditating.”

Yao feigned a shocked gasp. “General Pretty Boy has a fault!? An’ here all this time we thought you were perfect at everythin’!”

Nearly choking on her rice, Mulan burst out laughing. She wasn’t the only one; Shang and Ling were also laughing heartily and Chien-Po was chuckling. Yao wore a proud grin as took a large bite of rice.

“That’s certainly not a promotion I was expecting to get,” Shang joked. “‘General Pretty Boy’, hm? Doesn’t _quite_ have the same ring to it.”

Snickering, Yao dug around in his bowl of rice with his chopsticks. “Well, if you want, I can always demote ya back down. You just need to take that shirt of yours off and walk ‘round camp, showin’ off a bit.”

“If I do that, it’d only work to demoralize the troops,” Shang retorted. “Do you _really_ want that to happen after all the hard work you’ve been making them do?”

“Nah. Now if _I_ was t’ walk around shirtless, _then_ they’d get demoralized. They’d just look at you an’ go, ‘Huh. Lieutenant Yao was right. General Shang _is_ a pretty boy’.”

Mulan was laughing so hard, she nearly dropped her bowl. “Alright—alright!” she wheezed, fanning herself with her hand. “That’s enough! I’m almost ready to pass out, you’ve got me laughing so hard.”

“Yeah!” agreed Ling. “Anyway, we all know it’s _my_ job to tell the jokes.” He shoved some food into his mouth. “Speaking of which, I learned a real good one a few months back! Wanna hear it?”

“ _After_ dinner,” Mulan giggled, finally calming down enough to eat some of her food again. “I’d like to actually eat some of this food, you know.”

He shrugged, but smiled. “Fair enough. Don’t want to accidentally kill you, after all.”

A few minutes of quiet passed as the five went back to eating. Mulan glanced around at the group of men; she was glad to be back with her friends. When they had come to visit her the previous year, it hadn’t been long enough for her liking. They had stayed just long enough to grab a meal with her and then head back out.

‘Made some lovely rumors start going around about me,’ she thought, chewing on a piece of carrot. It wasn’t _quite_ fully cooked, though she found its crunch rather pleasant. ‘Thankfully, those were quickly extinguished by grandmama.’

“So, how have _you_ been, Mulan?” Ling asked.

“Well,” she replied, smiling. “Helping the village guard out and teaching some of the children the basics of martial arts. Other than that, my life has pretty much returned to normal.”

“And are you enjoying it?” Chien-Po questioned.

She blinked, a bit taken aback. “Pardon?”

“Are you enjoying it? Your normal life, I mean.” He set aside his now-empty bowl and grabbed his tea cup instead. “I recall you saying that it’s all you had wanted after everything we went through.”

As she chewed another bite of food, she thought over his question. She _had_ been enjoying the peacefulness her everyday life brought. At times, though, she had found herself missing Moo-Shung and the other recruits; the only other people who seemed to get her jokes nowadays were the guards and her father. What surprised her the most, however, was how she had _longed_ to go back to training. Once she had become accustomed to the pain and weariness it brought, she had actually started to enjoy it.

“For the most part, yes,” she finally answered. “It can be boring at times and I do sometimes miss training, but…well, wouldn’t you rather have a quiet life than a chaotic one?”

“It depends,” said Ling. “Sometimes, a little chaos can be a _good_ thing.” There was a look of mischievous in his eye as he glanced at Mulan. “It can keep things from being _too_ boring.” He then nodded at Yao and Chien-Po. “Why do you think I’ve stuck around these two for so long?”

She chuckled. “Good point.” She then looked at Shang. “By the way, Shang, what was Qiqang talking about earlier when he mentioned ‘the current state of affairs’? Is there trouble brewing again?” From the corner of her eye, she saw the other three glance at one another in confusion.

Shang let out a heavy sigh. “Yes _and_ no. It’s…rather complicated and actually part of the task you’ll be given.”

“Which means you can’t tell us,” she half-pouted. She looked at the others. “I suppose you three don’t know anything, do you?”

They shook their heads. “We’ve been out here in the middle o’ nowhere for nearly a year,” Yao told her. “Qiqang’s the one who gets all the official notices an’ whatnot.”

“We figure if anything important is going on, he’ll let us know,” Ling added. “But since we’re his underlings, we don’t really question him.”

“Unless it’s about mundane things, like who should be in what practice field that day,” Chien-Po said. “Or if we will be one of the camps getting horses for cavalry training.”

Mulan’s brow rose. “Cavalry training? So it’s not going to be _just_ the general’s army with horses now?”

Shang shook his head. “No. The Emperor saw his folly in that arrangement and requested _all_ battalions have at least one company of horses. It’ll be slow going, incorporating that many horses, but it can’t be helped.” He shifted his position so that he sat cross-legged instead of on his knees. “Many of the horses lost at the Tung Shao pass had come from long lines of warhorses; they were expected back for the breeding season. With them gone, stablemasters all over China have been trying to bring about new lines that will hopefully be just as good.”

“Sounds overly complicated,” Yao grumbled. “I’m sure any ol’ horse would do. Just make sure t’ put it through the ropes when you’re trainin’ it so it doesn’t get skittish on the battlefield.”

Shaking her head, Mulan also changed her sitting position. “It’s not that easy. Different horse breeds have different qualities that make them better suited for some tasks than others. Take Khan, for example. He’s large and sturdy with thick legs; he’s also not the fastest of horses because he’s built for endurance rather than speed. Hook him to a cart laden with goods—or cannons—and he can haul it for _miles_.”

“Jiang, on the other hand,” Shang continued, “is built for speed. He’s leaner with longer legs because he was bred to weave in and out of enemy lines. Now, that’s not to say Khan wouldn’t be a good warhorse—he _was_ a wonderful warhorse. Horses his size are an excellent intimidation tactic. If an army sees an entire battalion of horses like him, they’re going to get scared and at least _some_ of them will scatter. Those who don’t have a strong possibility of being crushed under those huge hooves.”

Ling nodded, showing that he was paying attention. “But the last cavalry was made up of horses more Jiang’s size. I would imagine they still scare people, but not nearly as much, so what is their job?”

“Horses like Jiang move lots of soldiers _fast_. Warhorses like him are bred to get soldiers behind the enemy lines as fast as possible, giving the enemy less chance to shoot them with an arrow or hit them with a sword. It also gives us the advantage, since being on a horse gives us the high ground.”

“You certainly know quite a bit about cavalry tactics,” Chien-Po smiled.

His cheeks turning a bit pink, Shang half-heartedly smiled. “My father _loved_ horses. Riding with the cavalry and leading them into battle was one of his most favorite things.” Rubbing the side of his neck, he looked down at the ground. “I…don’t share his talent for cavalry charges, though. I can ride a horse well enough, but fighting on one? I’d rather be on the ground.”

“That makes _two_ things General Pretty Boy isn’t good at,” Yao chuckled. “Keep this up an’ you may have us convinced you’re a _normal_ person like the rest o’ us.”

Rolling his eyes, he smiled and shook his head. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

A mischievous grin came to Yao’s lips. “Eh, I don’t know. Maybe when we’re old an’ grey.” He frowned somewhat as Ling nudged him.

“Maybe _you_ should try strutting around shirtless in front of the troops,” he joked. “See how it feels to be a pretty boy.”

He dismissively waved his hand. “Nah, thanks. They’ve seen me buck-ass naked enough times to know I pack a mean set’a muscles. Nothin’ pretty about them, but _damn_ if they’re not impressive.”

Mulan snorted. Though it was something she had tried to forget many times, she couldn’t help but think back to the night when she and Zhu had nearly been caught by the three while bathing. “And I suppose you’ve also made sure to inform them that you are the one and only King of the Rock?” she questioned.

At that, Yao turned a bit pink. “You remember that, huh?”

“ _Sadly_.” Her cheeks darkened as she laughed. “How can I _not_? Seeing that many filthy, naked men was more frightening than being chased by Shan Yu!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying the story so far! If you are, please leave a review~ They're very motivating to us writers!

They left just after sunrise the next day. Qiqang was almost loathe to grant Yao, Ling, and Chien-Po leave, but with them being summoned by the Emperor, he had little choice. The trainees were also disappointed to see them go; they had apparently been quite popular instructors.

With them around, the two-week trip to the Imperial City was made less boring. The five friends talked and joked among each other during the day while, at night, they all took turns standing watch while the other slept. Chien-Po did almost all of the cooking and did it quite happily; it was all-too clear that he should have been a chef of some sort— _not_ a soldier.

Mulan came to learn that the three had been working whatever jobs they could find before Shang promoted them. At times, they had had so little yen, they couldn’t afford a place to stay the night. They had said it was all because they considered Baoji to be their ‘home town’—it was where they spent the majority of their life before the war and that was where they returned _after_ the war.

But because they had earned reputations for being slackers prior to the war, no one wanted to hire them. Even after trying to convince people that they had changed in their ways, they were only able to find work doing the most menial of jobs. Chien-Po had been the only one to get a steady job and that was all thanks to his cooking skills.

Once they became lieutenants, however, their lives greatly improved. Not only did they have jobs, but they were also able to start _saving_ the money they earned. Because their clothes, food, and shelter were provided by the government, they weren’t forced to spend their earnings immediately like they had when they were just civilians.

 

* * *

 

It was raining on the day they arrived at the Imperial City. Hiding under her cloak, Mulan was thankful that her mother had insisted she pack the cloak. She lifted it just slightly, peering around at the city as they rode through. Despite the weather, it was still busy and crowded, forcing the group to ride in single-file.

“Hey, Shang, what’s the inside of the palace like?” Yao asked. “We only saw two hallways an’ a tower when we were here last.”

“It’s…spacious. And red. _Very_ red,” he answered. “There are lots of dragon motifs and golden decorations.” He shrugged. “The living quarters are towards the back of the palace, as are the gardens. On a day like today, though, I don’t think you’d want to be in those, though.”

Mulan cocked her brow, a knowing smile on her lips. “You don’t really know much about the palace beyond the throne room and the dining hall, do you?” She could see his cheeks growing pink.

“Not true,” he frowned. “I know about the armory and the stables as well.”

“Ah, of course. The most important parts of the palace,” Ling joked. “The rest of it just _pales_ in comparison to the stables and the armory. Oh, you’d think it was the Emperor’s bedroom that was the most opulent of places. _Noooo_ —you should see where his favorite horse sleeps! Now _that’s_ opulence!” As the others cracked up, he grinned proudly.

“For your information,” Shang laughed, “I’m not allowed much farther than the gardens. Very few people aside from slaves and servants are allowed to visit the living quarters.”

“That makes sense,” Chien-Po said with a small nod. “I’m sure the Emperor wouldn’t want just _anyone_ tending to his family.”

“Especially after the Empress’ kidnapping all those years ago,” Mulan agreed. “My father said it had been one of the slaves that did it. A Persian woman, if I recall.”

Shang nodded. “One of Shan Da’s wives. She was killed when your father rescued the Empress. From what my father said, she was killed by the Empress herself.”

At that, Yao frowned somewhat. “That don’t sound right,” he stated. “The Empress wouldn’t know how t’ fight. She’s supposed t’ be the pinnacle of sophistication an’ elegance.”

Mulan glanced over her shoulder at him. “Yao, she had been in Shan Da’s possession for _five_ years. I’m sure she had to have learned _something_. Hun women fight just as well as the men, remember?” Turning back around, she bit her lower lip and tried to force herself to think of something else. “The Empress and the servants aside, I’m wondering what the food is like in the palace,” she said, changing the subject.

At that, Chien-Po lit up. “Yes! I was hoping we would get to sample some before we’re given our task,” he smiled. “I’ve heard _wonderous_ things about the soups! Some of them require ingredients all the way from _Greece!_ Can you imagine how expensive those must be?”

“The food’s alright,” Shang smiled. “But I much prefer the cooking of Mulan’s mother. It’s simple and it’s delicious. What more could you want?”

“You’re askin’ _that_ of Chien-Po?” Yao snickered. “He’s goin’ t’ want to see the entirety of the kitchens—gardens included—so he can get an idea of what t’ fill his own herb supply with.”

Closer to the palace now, they were able to ride side-by-side once again. As Yao, Shang, and Chien-Po continued to talk food, Mulan frowned somewhat. She felt watched and not the standard being-observed-by-guards watched. Looking around, she tried to find any clue as to what left her feeling so strange.

“You feel it, too?” Ling’s voice drew her attention. “Like we’re being watched?”

She nodded. “Yes. It’s not—it’s not a _bad_ sort of feeling, though. It just feels like…like…”

“Like there’s someone or some _thing_ protecting the entire area?”

“What’re you two goin’ on about?” Yao interrupted, his brow raised.

“We feel like we’re being watched,” Ling answered. “Not the usual sort, either.”

Chien-Po frowned somewhat, raising a hand to his chin. “Now that you mention it, there is an odd feeling about this area…”

Mulan glanced over at Shang to find him stealing glances up towards the roof of the palace. “Shang…? Is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine,” he assured her, a small smile on his lips. “The Emperor has increased security around the palace and has had protective talismans placed around the perimeter. It’s probably their protective magics you feel.” Despite his words, he threw one last glance towards the roof.

“If you say so,” she murmured, not wholly believing him. Turning her gaze back to what lay before them, she let out a small sigh as they started to ascend the long, wide staircase. From the corner of her eye, she could see that Ling still wore a look of uncertainty as well.

‘I’m glad I’m not the only one who doesn’t entirely believe Shang,’ she thought. ‘Though, I’m surprised it’s _Ling_ who feels it. Then again, maybe Yao and Chien-Po feel it, but aren’t _as_ curious?’

When they finally reached the top of the stairs, they were greeted by eight armed guards blocking their path. They bowed, but kept their polearms at their sides.

“It’s good to see you’ve safely returned, General Li,” one of them spoke as he watched them dismount. “The Emperor will be pleased by your arrival.” Looking over his shoulder, he nodded at four of the guards. “You four: Take their horses to the stables and see that they’re taken care of. The rest of you stay here.” He then looked back at the group and motioned for them to follow him inside.

“Have I missed anything while I’ve been away?” Shang asked as they went inside.

“Nothing important,” the guard replied. “Though, you did miss a _spectacular_ display from Chi-Fu a few days ago.” He could barely contain his laughter, though he wore a large, amused grin.

Shang’s brow rose. “Oh? What happened this time?”

“The Empress put him in his place yet again.”

Mulan’s eyes widened. “What did he do that made the _Empress_ scold him?”

“It’s _Chi-Fu_ ,” Ling snickered. “Just him _existing_ is enough of an excuse.”

At that, the guard was unable to contain himself. He let out a hearty laugh, but quickly covered his mouth and looked at Shang. Finding that the general was shaking his head and laughing as well, he let his hand fall back to his side.

“Truer words could not have been said,” he chuckled. “But, he had tried to argue against an arrangement she had made, claiming that it was ‘frivolous’.”

Shang visibly cringed. “He _didn’t_.”

“He _did_ , sir. And after the Empress was through with him, he’s lucky to still have his _head_ , let alone his job.” He brought them to a halt in front of a set of tall, double doors. “I will go see if the Emperor is willing to see you now.”

As the guard ducked into the room, Yao shielded his mouth as he attempted to whisper to Ling. “I’m likin’ this Empress more an’ more.”

Mulan rolled her eyes, but smiled. “Is there a chance we’ll get to meet her, Shang?”

His brow rose ever so slightly; she thought she could see some playfulness in his eyes. “We’ll have to wait and see,” he replied. “She can be a _very_ busy woman.”

Before she could respond, the doors opened and the guard returned. “This way to the Emperor,” he told them, holding out a beckoning arm.

Letting Shang walk before them, the group entered the throne room. They followed a golden carpet until they came to a stop and knelt a few yards before the throne. Daring to peek up, Mulan saw the Emperor smiling down at them; he looked much more tired than he had when she last saw him.

Beside him, she also saw, was Chi-Fu. He looked as detestable as ever.

“You may rise, my children,” the Emperor told them, his voice as gentle and kind as ever. He watched as they all rose to their feet once more. “I must admit, I wasn’t expecting you for another four or five days.”

“We took some shortcuts, your majesty,” Shang replied. “I know the task you have for them is of utmost importance.”

He nodded in understanding. “And I thank you for that, General Li.” He then looked at Mulan and the lieutenants. “I must also thank all of you for coming,” he said, his expression becoming more serious. “Before I tell you of the task I must ask of you, however, you must be told the circumstances as to _why_ this task _must_ be carried out.” Looking at Chi-Fu, he nodded.

Clearing his throat, Chi-Fu took a step forward. “Nearly three years ago now, Shan Yu and his army invaded China only to later be defeated by,” his brow rose slightly as he half-glared at Mulan, “ _Fa Mulan_. With Shan Yu’s death, the Huns have once again become small, harmless groups of nomads. _However_ , his death opened the way for a _new_ threat to China’s safety.”

Mulan felt a tingle run down her spine; she felt like she was being watched again. Glancing at the others, she could see Ling involuntarily twitch and Chien-Po nervously wiggle his fingers. Did they feel it, too?

“To the north lies an army even _larger_ than the one Shan Yu commanded,” Chi-Fu continued, starting to pace before the throne. “The Mongolians. And to make matters worse, they have yet to be defeated in combat. The last two years have seen their territory growing steadily larger. Though they have made no attempts at conquering Chinese lands just yet, we have no doubts that they’ll soon test the waters.”

He paused a moment, shuffling through the various pages of notes on his board. “The Mongolian princes are smarter and stealthier than Shan Yu,” he finally continued. “Over the last two years, they’ve sent gift-bearing emissaries who have, no doubt, informed their princes that our army is little more than a rabble of half-trained men.”

Stealing a glance at Shang, Mulan could tell that he was doing his best to restrain himself from yelling at Chi-Fu. His jaw was set and his eyes were fixed on the wall behind the advisor. Behind his back, his hands were curled into white-knuckled fists.

“So why bring us here?” Yao questioned, his brow rising as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Ya want us t’ go take out the princes or somethin’?”

Though Chi-Fu stared at him in horror, the Emperor chuckled. “If only peace could be achieved so easily,” he said. “No, Lieutenant Yao, that is not the task I have for you—Though, I have no doubts you five could pull off such a feat.” His smile faded somewhat. “No. The task I have for you is far more important. You see, recently, one of the princes themselves paid us a visit. Though he spoke of peace and treaties, I knew he wanted only three things: My country, my palace, and my daughters.”

Mulan blinked, taken aback by his words. Beside her, Ling, Yao, and Chien-Po exchanged curious glances.

“Commander Renshu and General Li are seeing to the protection of my country and my palace,” continued the Emperor, “but even with all the precautions we have taken, my daughters’ safety within the walls of their own home is not guaranteed.

“As such, I have made arrangements for the Empress and the princesses to go into hiding.” He watched as looks of realization slowly overcame Mulan and the lieutenants’ faces; under different circumstances, their expressions would have made him laugh. “I ask of you to become their private guards for as long as they are in hiding.”

Mulan and the lieutenants quickly bowed. “It would be our honor to guard the Empress and her daughters, your majesty,” she said.

“We will do everything within our power to protect them,” Chien-Po spoke.

“Even if it means givin’ our lives,” Yao added.

The Emperor smiled, some relief coming to his features. “I hope it will not come to that,” he told them, “though I have no doubts that you will keep my family safe.”

Ling lifted his head slightly. “Um…your majesty, as honored as we are by this task, if you don’t mind me asking: Why _us_?” he questioned, feeling his cheeks beginning to burn. “I’m certain there are other soldiers out there better suited to this.”

“I have been asked that question a few times now,” the Emperor chuckled. He glanced over at Chi-Fu, whose cheeks turned pink as he pursed his lips in embarrassment. “And my answer remains the same: The four of you don’t _think_ like soldiers. You are able to see things from a civilian’s point of view and, because of that, you notice things a soldier would simply shrug off as harmless.” His eyes landed on Mulan and the corners of his mouth rose in a knowing smile. “And you are willing to take risks that a soldier wouldn’t dare try—such as unknowingly stealing dresses belonging to my daughters in order to fool the enemy.”

Yao, Chien-Po, and Ling smiled innocently, their cheeks turning dark red.

“There is more to this task than simply guarding my wife and daughters,” he continued, “but I am sure you are weary from your journey.” Standing, he turned to his advisor. “Chi-Fu, escort our guests to the smaller dining room and see to it that food is prepared for them. From there, General Li can tell you the rest of the plans. I, on the other hand, will let the Empress know that they have arrived.”

Chi-Fu blinked, eyes wide. “Buh-but, your majesty! Surely one of the servants could do such a task for you? You needn’t—”

“I needn’t, no,” he replied, his voice bearing a gentle sort of firmness, “but I _want_ to. The Empress is my _beloved_ , after all, and I would like to spend as much time with her before she leaves.”

Mulan was surprised to hear such words come from the Emperor; it wasn’t very common for men to proclaim their love for their wives so openly. It was even rarer for high-ranking men, as their marriages were usually arranged.

‘I shouldn’t be so surprised by this,’ she thought. ‘After all, he did have my father scour Asia for the Empress when she was kidnapped. If their marriage had been loveless, he would have given up after a single year…’

As the Emperor left the throne room through a small door behind the throne, Chi-Fu regained his composure. His brow rising, he looked down at the group with his lip drawn back ever so slightly.

Stepping off the dais, he walked past them. “This way,” he told them, motioning for them to follow. “I hope you’re not expecting to dine with the Emperor at any point during your _short_ stay. Only guests of great _importance_ are given such honors.”

Ling cocked his brow as they stepped out into the hall. Shielding his mouth, he leaned towards Mulan and, making no attempt to keep his voice subtle as he said, “Guess that means _he’s_ never dined with him.”

As Mulan, Yao, and Chien-Po snickered, Chi-Fu glared at them from over his shoulder. “I would watch my tongue if I were you, _lieutenant_ ,” he warned, his voice taking on a threatening tone. “You are no longer among your friends here. You are in the Imperial Palace. One wrong word and you could be thrown in the dungeons for the rest of your _life_.”

“And I suggest you not threaten _my_ lieutenants with such falsities,” Shang countered. “They know their places, especially when among royalty.”

Chi-Fu frowned and turned his nose up slightly. “I have _yet_ to see proof of that, General,” he calmly replied. He threw his arm out, motioning to a standard-sized door nestled between two pillars. “The dining room,” he said, not bothering to stop. “The servants will be with you shortly.”

Closing his eyes, Shang shook his head and sighed. “I hate that man,” he murmured under his breath. He opened the door, allowing the others to enter before him.

“Don’t see how the Emperor tolerates him,” Yao gruffed, plopping down beside a low wooden table surrounded by cushions. “He’s such a pr-” He fell silent as Chien-Po shot him a look.

“The only reason the Emperor keeps him around is because he’s the Empress’ brother,” Shang sighed. When he saw Mulan about to sit, he offered her one of the cozier cushions. His cheeks turned a bit pink as she thanked him.

Ling wore a look of horror. “ _He’s_ the Empress’ brother?!”

“I suddenly feel quite sorry for the Empress,” Mulan murmured, her brows furrowing.

Shang chuckled. “I assure you, you needn’t feel sorry for her. She’s one of the few people who can chastise Chi-Fu for his behavior and make him feel _genuinely_ sorry.”

“I would have thought such a task to be impossible to achieve,” Chien-Po admitted. “She must truly be a special woman if she is able to make such an insufferable being feel remorse.”

“And _that_ right there is how you know Chi-Fu’s a pain,” Ling grinned, his brow rising. “When Chien-Po can’t stand a person, you know they’re _bad_.”

Mulan smiled as she rolled her eyes. “How about we talk about something else?” she suggested. She then looked at Shang, who sat at the head of the table. “Such as the plans for our task?”

“Yeah,” Yao agreed, plopping a hand on his knee and leaning over slightly. “How’re we goin’ t’ get those gals to their hidin’ place?”

“And _where_ is the hiding spot?” Ling added.

Feeling grateful for the change in subject, Shang allowed himself to lean _back_ against the wall. “Land has been purchased and a home has been built in Tianshui,” he started.

Mulan’s eyes widened. “But—but that’s _my_ village!” she gasped.

He nodded. “That’s exactly _why_ ,” he explained. “The Emperor wants everything to seem as natural as possible. The Empress will be using the story that she is the widow of one of Fa Zhou’s relatives—yes, I have discussed this part with your father, Mulan—and that she wanted her and her daughters to live closer to family.”

Chien-Po cocked his head slightly in curiosity. “Why a relative of Fa Zhou?” he asked. “Why not someone of higher rank like a baron or a viscount?”

“He was a military man,” Shang answered with a smile. “ _And_ Mulan is his daughter. The Empress would feel safer having two great heroes living nearby.”

“Makes sense,” Yao said, nodding in agreement. His brow rose when he saw how dark Mulan’s cheeks had grown and he gently nudged her. “Aw, c’mon, Mulan; you ought t’ be used to gettin’ called a hero by now!”

“I don’t deserve _all_ the credit,” she retorted, her voice a bit quiet. “You four helped me a _lot_. And Zhu helped _all_ of us by distracting Shan Yu long enough for us to get in.” Her stomach twisted slightly and her chest grew tight as she remembered that night, but she was able to keep herself composed.

“While you do have a point,” Ling said, “that doesn’t make you any less of a hero. We’re _all_ heroes, yeah, but let’s face it: You’re the first _woman_ to ever save China.” Seeing the sadness in her eyes, he offered her a small smile. “How about we get back to the planning, eh? I’m sure once the food gets here, we’ll be too busy stuffing our faces to pay Shang any attention.”

Yao snorted at the comment.

“Thank you, Ling,” Shang smiled. “As I was saying, the Empress and the princesses will be disguised as Mulan’s relatives. There will be a small farm on the property, and that’s where you three come in. You will act as farmhands.”

Chien-Po perked at this. “Oh, I do love farming!” he chirped. “It’s so rewarding, being able to watch the fruits of your labor grow into wonderous things!”

“That…is a fairly good cover story, actually,” Mulan said. “Tianshui isn’t my father’s hometown, so the villagers don’t know much about his side of our family. And no one will question these three goofballs as farmhands since no one knows them.” She smiled, seeing the pouts on the lieutenants’ faces.

They suddenly fell quiet as the door to the room opened. Two servants came in with teapots and teacups. They informed the group that the food would take a little longer to prepare and that they hoped the tea was to their liking. After filling the cups for their guests, they bowed and took their leave.

“What about your role, Shang?” Yao spoke, breaking the silence as he grabbed his cup. “Or are ya not going to be comin’ with us?”

“I’ll be escorting you all to Tianshui,” he informed, “and will make sure the Empress and her daughters get settled in. But, aside from that, no. I won’t have a part in this. I’m afraid I have my duties as general to attend to. _However_ , I will be periodically stopping in to check on the Empress as well as deliver news from the Imperial City.”

Mulan’s brow rose somewhat as she took a sip of her tea. “But won’t it be suspicious if you keep making unannounced visits to the village?” she asked. “A general wouldn’t visit without some important reason.”

“N-Not necessarily,” Shang replied, thankful that his raised teacup somewhat hid his blush. “There are plenty of unimportant reasons as to why I’d be visiting. Getting advice from your father, stopping in after checking on Moo-Shung…”

An innocent look came to Ling’s face as he murmured something before sipping his tea. Mulan didn’t quite hear him, though whatever he had said had made Yao fall over laughing and Shang’s cheeks grow dark red. Chien-Po, thankfully, seemed to not have heard him either, as he was giving Ling a highly confused look.

Clearing his throat, Shang shifted his position somewhat. “I would like to add,” he said, avoiding eye contact with them, “that there _will_ be one other person coming with us. The princesses’ bodyguard.”

“‘Bodyguard?’” Chien-Po repeated. “As in _one_ for multiple princesses?”

Shang nodded. “Yes.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he looked down into his teacup. “They will also stay at the farm, though what their role will be, I’m not quite sure.”

“You sound unsure about this,” Mulan stated, frowning somewhat. “Do you not trust the bodyguard?”

“Oh, I’d trust them with my _life_ ,” he told her, eyes widening slightly. “I just—I just don’t _quite_ know how to talk about them, if that makes any sense.” Picking up his cup, he took another sip of tea. “They’re extremely… _secretive_. Which is understandable, as they were handpicked by the Empress herself from among the Emperor’s private guard.”

“Do you at _least_ know their name?” Ling asked. “Or are we going to be left calling them something ridiculous like ‘shadow’, ‘mysterious guard person’, or ‘hey, you! Secret-pants!’?”

Closing his eyes, Shang rested his forehead in his palm as he laughed for a few minutes. “No,” he finally managed to say, “ _no_. They go by Senka.” Shaking his head, he glanced up at Ling. “‘Hey, you! Secret-pants!’? _Really_ , Ling?”

He grinned proudly. “ _Obviously_ , it was good enough to make you fall into a laughing fit. Do you know how hard that is? It’s damn near impossible!” Picking up his cup, he drained the rest of his tea. “So. Senka. Man or woman?” he asked, bringing their conversation back on track.

“No idea,” Shang admitted. “They could be either. Like I said, they’re secretive.”

“Probably a eunuch,” Yao shrugged. “Women ain’t allowed t’ fight—Mulan bein’ the exception—an’ I doubt the Emperor would let an intact-guy guard his daughters.” He paused a moment, brow rising slightly in thought before he shrugged again. “Unless he only liked guys.”

Mulan wore an unconvinced expression. “I think we’re best left calling Senka a ‘they’,” she told him. “It’s both easier _and_ less rude.” As she looked over at Shang, she saw him quickly look away from her.

“I agree,” Chien-Po said. “If anything, it helps them remain mysterious, as I’m sure they’d like to be if they’re from the Emperor’s private guard.”

“Exactly,” Shang nodded. He looked up as the door opened once again. “Ah, the food’s here. We’ll finish talking about this later, alright?” He offered his friends a smile as the servants entered with platters of still-steaming food.

‘Something seems off about Shang,’ Mulan told herself. ‘I think he knows more about this Senka than he’s letting on…But, like Chien-Po said, if they’re part of the Emperor’s private guard, they’re not going to want to have their identity known. My only question is how they’re going to blend in once we get home. They can’t stay hidden _all_ the time; it just wouldn’t work.’

Picking up her chopsticks, she waited for the others to begin serving themselves before starting to bring various foods onto her plate. ‘But, more importantly, are the Empress and her daughters going to be able to blend in? For the most part, they’ve lived luxurious lives. Living away from the palace and not having actual servants tend to their needs is going to be quite the shock to them.’

As she took a small bite of some vegetables, she glanced around at her friends. Yao, Ling, and Chien-Po seemed quite content as they ate; and why shouldn’t they be? They were eating in the Imperial Palace—how often could a person of their rank claim such a thing?

“Is everything alright, Mulan?” Shang asked, a small frown on his lips as he watched her only nibble at the food. “Do you not like it?”

She blinked. “No, no! It’s delicious,” she assured him, smiling. “I just got lost in my thoughts is all. All of…well, all of _this_ is quite a bit to take in, is all. I mean, what the Emperor is asking of us is no small task.”

“No, it’s not,” Yao agreed, “but we’re goin’ t’ be the best guards the Empress an’ her daughters ever had!”

“Yeah!” Ling grinned. “We’ll make sure that not even a _mosquito_ can get near enough to bite them!”

Shang’s brow rose in amusement. “As impossible as that sounds, I’m sure the four of you could pull it off.”


	4. Chapter 4

The next day brought grey skies, but no rain.

Being led out into the gardens by Shang, Mulan and the lieutenants looked around in awe. A large pond with clusters of lily pads growing close to its edges filled most of the area while all sorts of flowers and shrubs filled the rest. There was a bridge leading over the pond, allowing for easy crossing. Off to one side, a large willow tree was growing, its boughs dipping into the pond. On the opposite side was a small pavilion; inside, they could see the silhouettes of four people.

“This is _beautiful_ ,” Chien-Po murmured, his eyes wide as he tried to take it all in. “I wonder how many types of flowers are growing here?”

“Too many,” Yao murmured, scrunching his nose up slightly. “Feels like I’m going t’ sneeze at any second.”

Mulan’s brow rose and she wore a bit of smile. “Best not let the Empress know that,” she lightly teased. “She may have been the one who had all these flowers planted.”

“It was actually the Emperor and Princess Su,” Shang informed them. “Both are lovers of botany.” They started to cross the bridge.

A broad grin suddenly spread across Ling’s face. “Do you think they _botany_ of the flowers or grew them all by themselves? Either way, I think they’re on the cutting- _hedge_ of garden aesthetics.”

Yao put a hand over his face and groaned. “Really, Ling? You’re goin’ to fire off puns in the Imperial garden of all places?”

Ling still wore his grin as he leaned over, nudging his friend. “Would you say my jokes _arbor-ing_ to you?”

“You are _so_ lucky I can’t punch ya right now, ya limp noodle.”

“Don’t worry, Yao—I only know those _tree_ puns.”

Mulan covered her mouth to keep herself from laughing. “Alright, Ling, I think it’s best you hold off on the puns for now. You wouldn’t want Yao to _compost_ in anger.”

As Yao stared at her in horrified disbelief, the other three couldn’t help but chuckle. Before Ling could fire off any more puns, Shang brought them to a halt a few yards from the pavilion. He instructed them to wait there while he made sure the Empress and princesses were ready to see them.

‘I wonder what they’re like?’ Mulan asked herself. She could feel her stomach beginning to flutter with a thousand nervous butterflies. ‘How old are they, even? Neither Shang nor the Emperor told us. For all we know, they could still be children…Though, the Emperor is a bit old to have _that_ young of children. …Isn’t he?’

Shang appeared in the entrance of the pavilion and beckoned them forward.

‘Or perhaps the princesses are our age?’ she continued to think, walking alongside Chien-Po. ‘Are they nice? Or are they spoiled? The Emperor is incredibly kind, so it’d be strange if they turned out to be brats. Then again, there have been kind nobles who children somehow end up spoiled. I hope they’re kind. It’d be nice to have some _female_ companions again.’

Nearing the pavilion, Mulan felt a shiver run down her spine; yet again, she felt like she was being watched. She told herself it was, more than likely, some of the protective talismans. After all, the Emperor wanted to keep his family as safe as possible.

Before she could get a look at the Empress and her daughters, she and the lieutenants knelt on the ground.

“So, this is the heroic Fa Mulan and her trio of lieutenants,” said voice that sounded both kind and wise. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you. Please, join us where it is comfortable.”

Doing as instructed, the four rose only to sit once more. This time, however, their legs were cushioned by silk pillows. Across from them were four beautiful women; the youngest looked to be Mulan’s age while the eldest was around Fa Li’s age.

The Empress smiled at the group as she gently fanned herself. “I am Empress Zhi,” she spoke, “though, you may simply call me ‘Zhi’. These are my daughters: Princesses Ting-Ting,” she used her fan to motion towards the tallest of the group, “Mei,” she then pointed to a shorter, plumper woman, “and Su,” she smiled at the shortest of the women.

Having remained standing, Shang took a small step forward. “My ladies, these are Lieutenants Yao, Ling, and Chien-Po. And, as you know, this is Fa Mulan.”

“It is an honor to meet you and to be chosen as your personal guard,” Chien-Po said, offering them a warm smile. “I promise you, we will do all we can to keep you safe.”

“The honor is all ours, lieutenant,” Ting-Ting told him, also smiling. She looked to be the eldest of the princesses, closer in age to Yao who was nearing thirty.

Mulan fought the urge frown in confusion; Ting-Ting’s smile was _remarkably_ familiar. But where had she seen it before? Perhaps she was related to one of the noblemen who had tried to ask for her hand?

Zhi wore an apologetic expression. “I am sorry we have to place such a burden on your shoulders,” she said, folding her fan and setting it in her lap, “but there is little else we can do to keep the princesses safe. Aside from marrying them off to men as old as their father in faraway lands, that is.”

Mulan watched as a look of distaste came to each of the princess’ faces; they all wore it differently, amusing her somewhat.

“But, this will, hopefully, be an excellent learning experience for them,” Zhi continued. “They have lived in luxury their whole lives. To live as lower-class nobles will teach them to appreciate the fineries they have here at the palace.” She looked past the group, a bit of concern coming to her features. “Ah, Senka, you’ve returned already!”

Turning, Mulan saw a figure standing a few feet outside of the pavilion. Senka was almost entirely covered in red and black with pieces of bronze armor. She could only see a bit of their cheeks from underneath their helmet. Even their hand, resting on the pommel of the sword at their side, was covered.

There was a strangeness about the guardian that made the pit of Mulan’s stomach knot itself in nervousness. ‘Shang wasn’t kidding when he said Senka was secretive,’ she thought, a shiver running down her spine.

“Please, excuse me,” the empress said, rising to her feet. “I must speak with Senka privately for a few minutes. Feel free to speak openly with my daughters; I’m sure they’re looking forward to talk that _isn’t_ of the court.” A knowing smile came to her lips as she glanced down at the princesses.

The second Zhi had left the pavilion, Su leaned forward, a broad grin on her lips. “Did you _really_ make an avalanche that took out the entirety of Shan Yu’s army?” she asked, eyes wide with excitement. Mulan thought she looked closest to her in age, somewhere in the early twenties.

Mulan blinked and felt herself starting to blush as she found herself a bit startled by the question. “Um, well… _yes_ ,” she answered, glancing up at Shang. She saw that his cheeks were a bit pink as he stared straight ahead. “At the time, I didn’t think it’d take out _that_ man of his men, though. I thought it’d take out a couple hundred. Turns out, there was more packed snow on that cliff than I anticipated…”

“A _lot_ more,” Chien-Po said with a node of agreement.

“We nearly lost her an’ Shang in it,” Yao added. “They got caught in the snow an’ it took them right over the edge of the pass.”

At that, Mei perked. She was somewhere between Ting-Ting and Su in age, putting her in the mid-twenties. “General Shang told us of that,” she said, starting to lightly fan herself. Unlike Su, she was able to restrain herself enough that she looked quite calm. “He said that Fa Mulan attached one end of a rope to the saddle of her horse and the other to an arrow. He said that you were able to pull them to safety, but…I must ask: Even with a group of men, pulling a _horse_ and two riders up a cliff seems nearly impossible. How were you able to do it?”

Ling nudged Chien-Po’s arm. “Chien-Po here is as strong as _three_ groups of men,” he chuckled. As he glanced up, he could see Chien-Po beginning to blush a bit.

“All of it would have been useless if Yao hadn’t fired the arrow at us _first_ , though,” Mulan quickly said, making sure credit was properly given. “We all had our parts to play.”

“How did you get the idea to dress up as concubines?” Ting-Ting questioned. Her voice, Mulan noticed, was a bit deeper than her sisters’ and, unlike them, her hair was a deep brown in color.

“Shan Yu’s elite were _men_ ,” Mulan replied, smiling teasingly. “I knew there was a strong chance a group of women would catch them off guard, especially if those ‘women’ were elegantly dressed concubines.”

“And it worked pretty well, too,” Ling chuckled, “though, only _one_ of the elite seemed to be convinced we were worth flirting with.”

Yao gave him a look. “Well, they others _might_ have been more distracted if ya didn’t have that apple roll out from underneath your dress.”

He pouted. “It only rolled out because _you_ took a bite from it!”

Shrugging, Yao couldn’t help but somewhat nod in agreement. “I was hungry. Can ya blame a guy?” His cheeks turned a bit pink as the princesses giggled behind their fans.

“It was an ingenious strategy,” Shang said. “Certainly not one that I would have been able to come up with. Though, I must admit, I’m glad we weren’t able to find a dress for me…” He smiled a bit as the princesses continued to giggle.

“I’m sure you would have looked absolutely _lovely_ , general,” Ting-Ting told him, her cheeks bright red. “If, during our trip, the need arises for you and the lieutenants to be disguised again, I’m sure we can find you _something_ that’ll be convincing enough.”

“Then you’ll _really_ be General Pretty Boy!” Yao cackled.

His cheeks turning as red as his cloak, Shang closed his eyes for a moment. Through her laughter, Mulan could tell that he was debating whether or not he should smack Yao upside the head or wait to do it later.

 

* * *

 

 

“Have all the horses been readied?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And the carriage?”

“Also readied, sir.”

“Good, good…” Shang let out a small sigh as he rubbed the side of his neck. “And their belongings have—”

“Their belongings have been packed into the wagon while their clothing has been placed in the carriage. Food for the journey, as well as the money and cooking utensils, has been stored in the carriage. The tent for the Empress and princesses is in the wagon, but within easy reach. Medicinal supplies are also within easy reach in the wagon. The oxen are almost ready; they’re still being groomed. As a precaution, the lieutenants and Fa Mulan will receive weapons before we leave tomorrow.”

His brow rising, Shang glanced over at the figure partially hidden by shadow. Though he knew it was Senka, he couldn’t help but feel a bit unnerved by their presence. “You’ve really made sure _everything_ has been readied.”

“Those were the orders you gave me, sir.”

“You needn’t call me ‘sir’. Technically, you’re _many_ ranks above me.”

Senka shifted somewhat, tilting their head to the side. “You are the commanding officer of this operation, sir.” Shang couldn’t tell whether the moonlight glinted off their skin or the metal of their cap. “It would be disrespectful for me to refer to you as anything else—or, so the Emperor has said.”

Shang let out another sigh, though this one was followed by a small laugh. “Well, you won’t need to be so formal once we’re out of the city. As such, I give you _my_ permission to address me informally.”

For a moment, Senka was silent. “If that is what you wish, then I shall do my best to see it done.” As they spoke, they seemed to almost drift further into the shadow. “Mu— _Fa_ Mulan is coming this way.”

Turning, Shang looked across the garden to, indeed, find Mulan walking towards him. He glanced back to thank Senka, but they had seemingly vanished from sight. He rubbed his face and walked over to Mulan.

“Who were you talking to?” she asked, head tilted in curiosity.

“Senka,” he replied, his brow rising. “ _You_ should be sleeping.”

“As should _you_ ,” she countered, a smile on her lips. “I’m guessing you either couldn’t sleep or are seeing to some last minute preparations for the morning.”

He half-heartedly smiled. “A bit of both, actually.”

“I thought that may be the case,” she chuckled. She covered her mouth as she yawned. “I just can’t seem to fall asleep. I’m tired and _want_ to sleep, but…” Her voice trailed off as she shrugged.

He started to walk alongside her. “Perhaps it’s excitement about the morning?” he suggested. “It’s not every day you’re asked by the Emperor to guard his family, after all.”

“Maybe,” she said. As he looked down at her, Shang could see dark circles under her eyes. “I’m not sure it’s _quite_ that, though. A form of nervousness, maybe?” She shook her head. “Or maybe I’m just overthinking things in my drowsiness.”

“That could be it, too,” he smiled, his brow rising once more. He guided Mulan back into the palace as a cool wind picked up. “Mulan? May I ask you something?”

She looked up at him. “Of course.”

“What do you think of the Empress and the princesses?” he questioned. His cheeks turned a bit pink. “And know you can be _wholly_ honest with me. I won’t be telling anyone.” They passed through a set of doors, finding themselves outside once more.

Mulan blinked, her own cheeks flushing slightly. “Well—to be fair, I haven’t gotten to spend much time with them,” she answered. “But from what I’ve witnessed of them so far, they’ve been quite kind and pleasant to be around. I’m sure once we’re away from the palace, they’ll feel a bit more at ease.”

He nodded. “Good. That’s good to hear.” A relieved smile came to his lips.

“Why do you ask?” She tilted her head as she looked up at him. “Do they not like us or…?”

“Oh, no! It’s not that at all!” he told her, eyes widening. “It’s just…well, the princesses haven’t had many _friends_ their own age. They’ve grown up with _plenty_ of half-siblings and cousins and the like, but…” He rubbed the back of his neck, a bashful look on his face. “To be completely honest, there are members of the court who find them to be… _strange_.”

She frowned. “Strange? How?” By now, they had reached the top of the stairs and found themselves strolling along a covered walkway. “They seem normal to me.”

“It’s their interests.” He let out a heavy sigh. “Su, as you know, is into botany as well as cooking and medicine—those in of themselves aren’t bad, but it’s the fact that she wants to go out and do _all_ of the garden work?” He approached the railing and leaned his arms against it. “It’s unheard of for a woman of such noble birth to want to do any sort of laborious work.

“Ting-Ting _loves_ jokes, whether it’s listening to them or telling them herself. And, like Su, she doesn’t mind doing physical labor—for her, however, it’s woodworking that’s her labor of choice. She’s quite good at it, too, but…as you can imagine, it’s rather frowned upon for the Emperor’s firstborn to enjoy such a thing.

“And then there’s Mei. She’s _quite_ the romantic and _quite_ the textile worker. Silk, leather, linen, burlap…she can do wonderous things with all of them. The dresses she and her sisters wore to dinner, in fact, were made entirely by her.”

Mulan stared at him in awe for a moment before forcing herself to look away. “You…seem to know the princesses extremely well,” she stated, her voice quiet. Biting her lower lip, she started to toy with the hem of her light, silk coat.

“I grew up with them,” Shang admitted. “They’re…they’re like my sisters, to be honest.” Closing his eyes, he let out a laugh that sounded both nervous and relieved. “My mother passed away when she gave birth to me and my father had loved her too much to remarry. He didn’t always trust the servants to properly take care of me, so it wasn’t uncommon for him to bring me with him whenever the Emperor summoned him.”

“That’s…very unusual,” she said, brows furrowing slightly. Despite her expression, she had felt a wave of relief wash over her. “Especially for a general. I could see a peasant father doing such a thing, but not a general.”

“My father and the Emperor had been extremely close,” he explained. “The Emperor wanted my father to be the commander of the army, but such a position doesn’t often get the chance to be in the field. And, as I’ve mentioned, my father _loved_ his horses, so he chose to remain a general.

“But, because my father brought me with him so often, I was basically raised alongside the princesses. I know it doesn’t seem like it, since we’re so formal with each other, but…” He shrugged. “We’re adults now. We can’t be informal with each other. If the wrong person were to see us hugging or spotted us alone, scandalous rumors could be started and spread. I don’t want to put them through that kind of dishonor.”

She nodded in understanding. “I see. Do you think you’ll be less formal once we’re out of the Imperial City?”

“I…don’t know, to be honest.” He let out a heavy sigh and looked down. Below them was the entrance to the palace; guards walked up and down the massive staircase on their evening patrols. “In conversation, perhaps.” He then glanced over at Mulan, finding that she was also peering down at the guards.

“Well, whether you remain formal or not, at least you’ll be able to spend time with them again.” She stepped away from the one railing to instead look down into the garden from the other railing; it was more interesting than guards in an open area.

“That’s my hope.” He followed her, a small smile coming to his lips as he stood beside her once again. “Thank you…For agreeing to protect them, I mean. You and the three goofballs didn’t _have_ to do this.”

“Why would we refuse the Emperor?” Her brow rose ever so slightly; it was a bit strange to hear _him_ of all people refer to Yao, Ling, and Chien-Po as goofballs. It was a nickname created by the recruits, after all. She tilted her head back, enjoying the breeze. “I think it’ll be nice to have other women to be around, though,” she admitted. “I—I don’t have many friends myself.”

“A shame, since you’re such a lovely person.” Shang unconsciously stiffened and felt his cheeks start to burn. He glanced at Mulan from the corner of his eye just in time to see her shyly tuck some hair behind her ear; she, too, was blushing. “I’m—I’m sure you and the princess will become wonderful friends,” he quickly said.

She smiled. “It would be nice. I’m sure my parents would appreciate it.” She forced herself to _not_ look at Shang. Instead, she focused her attention on one of the palace towers, though it made her brows furrow slightly. “…The tower looks like it was never destroyed.”

“The Emperor had it repaired rather quickly,” he agreed. “It took nearly four months of work, but, as you stated, it looks like it was never harmed.”

Biting her lower lip, she closed her eyes. “Did they ever find any…you know…?” she quietly asked.

Shang shook his head.

She slowly nodded, a quiet sigh escaping her mouth; not looking at Shang, she didn’t see the bit of guilt that came to his eyes. “It’s to be expected. Who knows how many fireworks were set off?” A weary laugh left her mouth before turning into a yawn.

“We should get to bed.” He set his hand on her shoulder. “You’re exhausted.”

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him, a tired smile on her lips. “Though, I don’t think I’ll be able to find my room from here…wherever _here_ is.”

He chuckled. “Good thing I know where ‘here’ is,” he told her. “I’ll escort you back.”

Her cheeks flushed ever so slightly. “Thank you.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys...I know this sounds kind of needy, but I've been feeling really self-conscious about my art and writing this past week. So if you could leave something as simple a smile emoji/emoticon as a comment so I know people actually read my stuff, that'd be great. Also, if anyone's interested, I posted the upload dates for future chapters on my profile page.

There was little in the way of pomp and circumstance when it came time for the Empress and princesses to bid farewell. Having risen before dawn, the group quietly left the palace while it was still dark. They wanted to draw as little attention to themselves as possible and that could only be achieved when the city was still asleep.

“Do you think it’ll rain today?” Mulan asked as she rode beside Shang, her voice quiet.

He shook his head. “It’s suppose to start clearing up today, thank the gods. I don’t want to go through the pass in foul weather.”

She nodded in agreement. “Too true. We don’t need another avalanche taking place.” There was a small smile on her lips as she made the joke, though her eyes betrayed the tiredness she felt.

His brow lifting, Shang looked over at her. “We’re not bringing any cannons with us, so I _think_ we’ll be alright.”

“You mean to tell us we’re _not_ going to give the girls a taste of what it was like that day?” Ling interjected with a laugh. “Such a shame! I’m sure they would have loved it.”

Yao snorted. “Are you kiddin’ me? Without tens o’ thousands o’ enemies ridin’ toward us, the feel just wouldn’t be _authentic_ enough.”

Chien-Po didn’t seem very amused by their joking, however. “We’re taking the pass?” he questioned. “I thought we were going to be taking the longer way…”

“We would, but I received word that one of the roads was washed away by a flash flood,” Shang informed him. “It won’t be passable for another two weeks.”

“Hm.” Chien-Po let out a small sigh. “That pass holds many bad memories for us. I can only hope we’ll be able to pass through it with speed _and_ safety.”

Mulan nodded. “I hope so, too…” she murmured, glancing over her shoulder.

Behind them, the royal carriage was being pulled by a pair of oxen; Yao was sitting on the driver’s bench, his feet just barely touching the floor below. Walking alongside them, another set of oxen pulled the supply wagon which was being driven by Chien-Po. There was a spare horse walking alongside the carriage, though it had no rider. Senka, she found, was nowhere to be seen.

“Is Senka scouting ahead?” she asked.

“Yes. They’ll meet us on the far side of the village.” He glanced over his shoulder at the carriage. “Hopefully, they aren’t too conspicuous like this…we did our best to make sure the carriage was as undecorated as possible.”

“Looks like a normal one to me,” Yao said with a shrug.

Chien-Po nodded in agreement. “It doesn’t look royal in the least. _None_ of our group does. If anything, we look like merchants transporting our wares.”

“Good,” Shang sighed. He felt a hand come to rest on his forearm and he glanced over, seeing Mulan giving him a reassuring smile.

“It’s _far_ too early to start worrying about things,” she told him. “Everything will be fine. Before you know it, we’ll be safe in Tianshui.”

Returning the smile, she opened her mouth to say something, but a voice behind them spoke first.

“Shang?” It was the Empress who spoke, her head poking out from one of the windows. “When do you think it will be safe enough for me to be able to ride?”

“After we pass through the village,” he answered. “So, within the hour if we continue this pace.”

She nodded in understanding, a smile on her lips. “You’ll let me know when we’re past?” Unlike when she had first greeted them, the Empress now wore no makeup and her hair was pulled back in a simple braid. Somehow, she still managed to appear elegant and regal.

“Of course.”

“Thank you, Shang.” She pulled her head back into the carriage, sliding the shutter closed.

“The Empress rides?” Ling asked, his brows furrowing in confusion. “I didn’t think it was elegant enough for ladies of the court to ride horses…”

Shang rubbed the back of his neck, an awkward smile on his lips. “It’s really not. The Empress is the only woman of the court who _does_ ride.”

“Why is that?” questioned Chien-Po.

He shrugged. “I’m not sure, to be honest. It’s one of those things you just don’t question.” He suddenly hid his mouth behind his forearm as he yawned; afterwards, he lightly shook his head in an almost disappointed manner.

“Didn’t get much sleep?” Yao asked, a chuckle leaving his mouth. “Don’t think any o’ us did.”

Ling nodded, covering his mouth as he yawned. “Too excited about today,” he agreed. “By noon, I bet we’ll all be wishing we could stop for a nap.”

The yawn was passed onto Mulan. “By noon?” she repeated through her yawn. “Try right _now_.”

A broad grin came to Yao’s lips. “One o’ the perks t’ driving these things instead o’ riding on horses,” he said. Seconds later, he, too, yawned, though he made no effort to hide it. “Chien-Po and I can just sit back an’ relax.”

Chien-Po’s brow rose. “How can you relax when these seats are so uncomfortable?” he questioned. He then noticed that everyone was staring at him. “…Is something wrong?”

“Yes,” Ling said, pouting. “Why haven’t you yawned yet?”

He tilted his head, confusion coming to his features. “Was I _supposed_ to?”

“The rest o’ us did,” Yao frowned.

“And that means _I’m_ supposed to yawn as well?”

“They’re contagious!” Ling argued. “Of _course_ you are!”

His brow rose before he shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have to yawn.” As he finished speaking, he suddenly clenched his jaw shut and his cheeks turned bright red. It started to wobble as an almost pained expression came to his face.

Ling pointed at him. “Liar! Look at you, trying hold it back!”

“I do n—” Before he could finish speaking, Chien-Po yawned.

“HA!” Yao cackled. “ _Told ya_ they was contagious things!”

Chien-Po sighed heavily, his cheeks still bright pink as he looked away from his friends.

 

An hour’s passing saw them both reach the village and leave it behind them. As Shang had said, they found Senka waiting for them on the outskirts of town. Sitting atop a large silver-dappled mare, they looked as intimidating as ever.

Ling’s horse seemed nervous at the mare’s approach, but Jiang and Khan were quite the opposite. They let out friendly nickers are the mare, their ears perked towards her. She let out a nicker in return and even nuzzled the two stallions as Senka moved to ride on Shang’s right.

‘I guess Khan made a new friend while in the stables…?’ Mulan thought, her brow rising somewhat. ‘But I’ve never seen him act this way with other horses? It could be because she’s a mare, though.’ She glanced over at Ling’s horse, finding that it, too, was a mare. ‘He has a mare, though. Why would they prefer Senka’s horse to Ling’s? …Why am I even overthinking this? They’re _horses_. Animals behave differently from humans.’

Looking over at Shang, she found him leaning over as he whispered with Senka. Half a minute later and he was righting him, a pleased look on his face.

“The road ahead is clear,” he said. “We should reach the pass by late-afternoon. We’ll make camp then and cross the pass tomorrow.”

Chien-Po frowned. “Why not cross it today?” he asked. “Surely, we would have enough daylight left to cross it.”

“We would,” Shang agreed, “but that would leave us near the burned-out village.”

Yao cocked a brow as he leaned rested his elbows on his knees. “So? The remains have been cleared away an’ all the bodies buried. It’s safe t’ go through the area. Ya know that.”

“The spirits of the unjustly killed have little love for the living.” Everyone looked at Senka as they spoke; only Shang was unsurprised by their voice. “It would be ill-advised to camp anywhere near such a cursed place.” Their voice was deep, yet there was a strange softness to it and they spoke with a sorrowful lilt.

“I…see,” Chien-Po murmured. “I had been told that the area had been cleansed by monks. Did I hear wrong?”

Shang shook his head. “No, you didn’t. Monks _did_ cleanse the area, but…with such a great number of people killed in an area, it’s difficult to ensure _everyone_ passes on.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at the pommel of his saddle. “So, yes. We’ll make camp on _this_ side of the pass. An early night will also let us get some much-needed sleep.”

“Sounds good,” Mulan said, a small smile on her face. It faded somewhat as she watched Senka purposefully fall behind so that they rode along the spare horse. “I assume we’ll also take turns standing watch?”

“Yes. We’ll draw straws when the time comes.”

She nodded in understanding, still watching Senka. They untied the horse before leading it around to the back of the carriage. A few minutes later, they came back with the Empress riding alongside them.

“Fa Mulan,” Senka said, “the princesses would like you to join them inside the carriage.”

Her cheeks darkening, she looked over at Shang. “Is that—is that alright?”

His brow rose as he smiled. “Of course,” he chuckled.

“They will not bite you, I promise,” Zhi gently teased. “But I _cannot_ promise they won’t try to hug you or ask you too many questions.”

A bashful smile spread across her face. “Hugs and questions I can handle,” she assured the Empress.

“Good, because I warn you now: My daughters are affectionate creatures.”

She nodded in understanding. The group paused for a moment, letting Mulan dismount and head to the carriage. She knocked on the door only to jump somewhat as it was immediately thrown open.

Su was on the other side, excitement on her features. “Come in!” she said, stepping aside and beckoning Mulan in. “We hope we haven’t interrupted anything.”

“Not at all.” Climbing into the carriage, she glanced around. Though it was plainly decorated, it still bore elements of royal comfort—mainly in the form of dozens of plush, silk cushions. As she sat down, she felt her cheeks turn pink once more; all three princesses were staring at her with wonder and excitement. “So…you wished to speak with me?”

All three nodded, though it was Ting-Ting who spoke. “As you know, we have lived among royalty our whole lives,” she started, her voice surprisingly calm despite her expression. “From birth, our lives have been defined.”

“We must humbly serve our country and guard the hopes of our people, whether they’re weak or mighty, rich or poor,” Su sighed, her shoulders slouching somewhat.

“But we’ve always wanted to be like other girls!” Mei stated. “And now that we’re going into hiding, we _can_ be like other girls! We can climb trees, we can slouch when we sit—”

“We can eat a whole cake _with frosting_!” Su grinned.

“And we don’t have to wear pinchy shoes anymore!” Ting-Ting chirped.

Mulan chuckled, glad to hear that the princesses were looking forward to living a less luxurious life. “Well, I’m certain you three will have quite a bit of freedom now that you’re away from the palace,” she told them. “Though, it’s not _all_ fun and games, you know.”

They nodded in unison once more.

“And that’s why we were hoping _you_ could help teach us how to be like other girls,” Mei told her. “We know _some_ things about how to care for ourselves—you know, like bathing, cooking, sewing…”

“Well, _Su_ is the cook,” Ting-Ting corrected, “and Mei is the seamstress. But things like cleaning a home or caring for animals or even talking with people who aren’t relatives?” She wore a sad smile. “We’re…kind of hopeless at that.”

“I don’t know,” Mulan said. “You’re speaking to me just fine.”

Her eyes widening, Su gawked at her. “You…really think so?”

“Yes,” she chuckled.

Ting-Ting started to lightly fan herself. “We…may have had _some_ practice thanks to Senka,” she admitted. “But they’re not going be able to talk with us much now that they’re on duty.” As she spoke, a disappointed frown came to her lips.

Mei reached over and pulled a cushion onto her lap before resting her elbows on it. “Fa Mulan is also another _woman_ ,” she stated. “We’re a bit used to speaking with women. But outside this carriage are four _men_. Men we’ll have to speak with and get to know, as they’re going to be our stewards for an undetermined length of time.”

“True,” Su sighed. “The only man we were ever really allowed to speak freely to was Shang…until he joined the military.”

“He told me about that,” Mulan commented. “He said that the four of you had been very close.”

“He’s like our brother,” Ting-Ting smiled. “… _Kind of_. A brother who was constantly coming-and-going.”

Mei nodded. “He’s always worried about us,” she chuckled. “It was actually _his_ idea to have us go into hiding.”

“It…was?” Mulan asked, blinking in surprise.

Su tilted her head, a curious look on her face. “He didn’t tell you?”

She shook her head. “No. I thought it was the Emperor who came up with the idea.”

Ting-Ting shook her head, a small frown coming to her lips. “No. _He_ wanted to send us off to be married to some of his allies in the west.”

“But mother _vehemently_ refused to let that happen,” Mei said. “She didn’t want us to be sent off to marry men twice or thrice our ages, regardless of how it would strengthen the bond between allies.” She let out a small sigh and brushed a few stray hairs from her forehead. “They fought for _days_ over it.”

Mulan had to force her jaw to stay closed. ‘The Emperor and Empress actually have arguments? Like _normal_ married couples?!’ she thought. She knew it was a silly thing to think, but she had always envisioned the imperial couple as the epitome of unity.

Su pulled her legs up onto the bench, tucking them close to her body. “But then Shang came up with the idea to instead send us into hiding. Father _still_ didn’t like it until Shang suggested hiding us in your village.”

Ting-Ting nodded, allowing herself to somewhat slouch back against the wall of the carriage. “We would like to think it’s because of you,” she told Mulan, “but we know, in reality, it’s because of your father.”

Nodding in understanding, she tucked a bit of hair behind her ear. “Understandable. He _did_ save your mother, after all. I would imagine your father felt that with my father around, your mother would feel safer.”

“Not just him, though!” Mei said. “You’ll also be there as well as Senka and the lieutenants.”

At the mention of Senka, Ting-Ting chuckled. “Even if we only had Senka, we’d be safe.”

Mulan tilted her head in curiosity. “You already know Senka, then?” she asked. “I was under the impression that they were recently chosen for the job…”

“Oh _no_ ,” Ting-Ting smiled. “We’ve known Senka for a few years now. Granted, _Shang_ doesn’t know them well, but they trust each other well enough.”

“Despite how they act, they’re really fun to be around,” Su chirped. She then glanced at the shuttered windows with a bit of wariness. Leaning forward, she half whispered, “They even promised to teach us how to fight once we’re settled into village life!” As she spoke, an excited grin spread across her face.

“ _Shhh_!” Mei and Ting-Ting scolded.

“If the lieutenants hear you, they could try to stop it from happening!” Mei hissed. “And you _know_ how much Ting-Ting’s been looking forward to archery and how I’ve been _dying_ to learn how to wrestle!”

Mulan couldn’t help but crack up. The princesses looked at her, their cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” she laughed, having to wipe away a tear. “I’m sorry, really. It’s just—Has Shang told you _nothing_ about the lieutenants?”

They shook their heads. “We only know that they dressed as concubines to help save father,” Su answered, “and that they seem to be nice men with good senses of humor.”

She gave them a reassuring smile. “They are complete _goofballs_ ,” she informed. “And they’re not exactly strict when it comes to rules. I’m sure that, if you asked, they’d be more than willing to also help teach you three.”

One of Ting-Ting’s brose rose in skepticism. “…Really?”

“Of course,” Mulan chuckled. “I can’t guarantee that they’ll be as skilled as Senka, but they _are_ good warriors.” She pulled her legs onto the bench and shifted so that she was sitting cross-legged. “And if you start feeling beaten down at all? They’re _excellent_ at cheering people up. More than once, they had to help me and Zhu feel better after a hard day of training.” She did her best to remain smiling, though the mention of Zhu left a rock in the pit of her stomach.

The princesses exchanged curious looks with one another.

“…You were good friends with Shan Zhu, then?” Mei asked, her voice quiet and a bit hesitant.

“I was, yes.” She knew there was no point in lying. “I had considered her my best friend until the very end.”

“Even though she was—even though she was a Hun?” Su asked, her voice just as soft.

Mulan shook her head. “By the time we found out her real identity, she had _more_ than proven that she was fighting _for_ China, not against it.” A sad smile graced her lips and she looked down at her lap. “She helped train us in archery and even taught some of us hand-to-hand combat.”

Ting-Ting tilted her head. “Really?”

She nodded. “Yes. I think Shang was grateful for her help; he was the only instructor, after all. With Zhu helping out with archery and hand-to-hand, it was one less thing for him to worry about.” Feeling something fall on her hand, she realized she had started crying.

Reaching over, Ting-Ting set her hand atop hers. “I’m sorry. It’s obvious we’ve upset you; we shouldn’t have pursued this topic further.”

“It’s fine,” she said, using her sleeve to wipe away her tears. “I should be over her death by now, but…I still miss her. She was one of my first _real_ friends.”

“Mourning is different for all of us,” Mei assured her. “Some take weeks to heal, some take years. There are even some of us who will never truly heal. The important thing is to keep going forward, despite the grief.”

“ _And_ to remember that there are still those among the living who care about you,” Ting-Ting added. “If Shan Zhu valued your friendship as much as you valued hers, I’m sure she would want you to continue being happy with—how did you put them? The goofballs?”

At that, Mulan couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “Yes, the goofballs,” she smiled. “And I’m sure I will, especially now that they’ll be living closer.”

Su smiled, glad to hear Mulan laugh. “Why don’t you tell us about them?” she suggested. “It might help us be less shy around them.”

Mei nodded in agreement. “Maybe we share common ground with them, giving us things to talk about.”

Wiping a few more tears from her eyes, Mulan smiled. “Oh gods, where to start with those three?” she giggled. “Well, Ling _loves_ to tell jokes; Yao enjoys anything that flaunts his strength; and Chien-Po is quite the chef…”

 

 

As night started to fall, it found the group setting up the campsite. Before them loomed the Tung Shao Pass, its peaks bathing them in their shadow. Despite that, the mood of the group seemed to be relatively cheery, with Chien-Po excitedly going through the food supply to get ideas for dinner and Ling and Shang helping set up the royal tent. Yao and Mulan had gone off to search for firewood while, once again, Senka was sent out to scout.

“It’s kind of weird that we’re setting up a tent when we’re staying just _one_ night,” Ling said, walking backwards as he unfurled the tent canopy. “I’d understand it if we were staying two or three nights…”

“The Empress and her daughters are safer sleeping inside an enclosed space,” Shang told him. As Ling finished unfurling, the two of them began to unfold it. “That, and it gives them a bit of privacy and more space to change their clothes and the like.”

“True. Didn’t think of that.” He raised his brow as he looked down at the flattened tent. “Where are the poles?”

Shang headed for the wagon. “There’s just one pole,” he told him. “The rest is supported by a latticework frame.” He started to pull the pole out from under the bundle of lattice.

Ling’s brow rose. “Really? That’s…unusual.” His eyes widened as Shang tossed a seven-foot pole at him; he just _barely_ caught it. “You could have warned me.”

“You were watching,” he chuckled. “But yes. The tent is round, so three dozen short poles would be tedious.” He turned back to the wagon, reaching for the bundle of lattice, only to frown.

The bundle was missing.

“Where…?” he murmured. Hearing a giggle behind him, he turned in time to see Mei and Ting-Ting darting inside the lump of cloth that was their tent. He looked at Ling, confused; Ling merely shrugged.

He started to walk towards the tent. “Princesses, what are you—” He paused, watching as, from the inside out, the tent was stretched out. Shaking his head, he smiled; he now knew where the lattice had gone.

Lifting the door to the tent, he poked his head in. “What are you two doing?”

“Uh, duh?” Mei giggled, straightening out some of the canvas. “We’re helping!”

Her brow raised, Ting-Ting smiled as she rolled her eyes at Mei. “Before you protest, this is something we’re going to have to learn to do,” she told him. “We’re suppose to start living as _normal_ people.” She, too, started to properly arrange the cloth over the lattice.

“Yes, but not _this_ kind of work,” he countered, holding the door up so Ling could come in with the center pole. “This is the kind of stuff you leave to me and the lieutenants.”

He could tell Mei badly wanted to blow a raspberry at him, but she glanced at Ling and stopped herself. “Neither Ting-Ting nor I can be of any help when it comes to cooking,” she countered, “and there are no clothes that need repairing— _yet_. But we _are_ perfectly capable of helping with the setting up of _our_ tent.”

“But—” Shang started.

“Aw, c’mon, Shang!” Ling interrupted, his eyes fixed on the top of the pole. He was slowly easing the heavy canvas roof upwards, taking care to not let the pole slip from the wooden notice sewn into the tent. “Let them help. If it gets to be too much for them, they can stop and we can handle the rest.”

Shang looked back at the princesses. They were looking at him with wide, pleading eyes. He thought he had grown immune to those looks when he was a child.

It quickly became apparent that he hadn’t.

“Alright,” he sighed, shaking his head once more. “I’ll go get the tent pegs, then…”

As Shang left the tent, Ting-Ting felt her cheeks grow a bit warm. “Thank-you, lieutenant,” she said, her voice shy. “Sometimes the general can be a bit…”

“Hardheaded? Stubborn? Traditional?” Ling suggested, grinning. When the pole was nearly raised to its full height, he was forced to use his foot as a hammer to get it solidly in place.

Mei giggled; her cheeks were also pink. “All three of those could work,” she grinned.

“It will take him some time to ease up,” Ting-Ting smiled. “We’re barely a day from home; of _course_ he is still on high alert.” She moved to a different section of the tent and started to work on arranging it. “Once we’re three or four days into our journey, he will be more willing to let us do _actual_ work.”

Ling opened his mouth to make a joke, but he quickly shut it, realizing that it may not have been the most appropriate one to say in front of princesses. He was thankful they had their backs to him as he rubbed the back of his neck, as his face had turned bright red. “To be fair, I don’t think Shang ever _really_ lightens up. He’s always been ‘Captain Pretty-Serious’,” he instead joked. “Now that he’s been charged with the safety of your mother and you, he’s been promoted to ‘General So-Serious-I’m-Boring’.”

Ting-Ting clapped her hands over her mouth, stopping herself from bursting out laughing. Ling, unable to see the humor on her features, mistook it as her covering her mouth in horror at his teasing and winced.

“Er…I’ll go help Shang with those tent pegs,” he murmured. Before either princess could stop him, he darted out of the tent.

Confused, Ting-Ting looked over at Mei only to find that she, too, was wearing a look of confusion. “Why did he leave so suddenly?”

“Maybe he grew nervous?” she suggested with a shrug.

She let out a sigh. “More than likely.” Shaking her head, she finished her half of the tent. “There. My half is done.”

“Then come help me with my half,” Mei told her. “I’m having some problems.”

“That’s because you’re _short_ ,” she replied, her brow rising in amusement.

“I am a _normal_ height, thank you very much,” she pouted, half-glaring up at her sister. “ _You_ are just too tall.”

Ting-Ting frowned. “I’m not _too_ tall…” She helped Mei finish the last of her side of the tent.

“You’re almost as tall as—” She paused a moment, her eyes closing. “Almost as tall as Senka, who is taller than father. And father is a tall man!”

“But both are incredibly short when compared to Chien-Po,” Ting-Ting joked. “That man is a _giant_. A gentle giant, but a giant nonetheless.” She let Mei lead the way out of the tent.

They both came to a stop barely two feet from the tent. In the center of the camp, Su and Chien-Po were happily sitting beside one another as they prepped the vegetables for dinner. Next to Chien-Po, Su looked as if she were still a child.

Leaning over, Ting-Ting shielded her mouth and whispered to Mei, “At least you’re not as short as Su.”

Mei rolled her eyes. “ _Very_ funny,” she murmured. “ _I’m_ going to make myself useful and get out bedrolls from the wagon.” Walking away from her sister, she brushed her skirts off of any stray fibers from straightening out the tent.

She threw open the cloth doors of the wagon, her eyes narrowing as she saw the sheer number of _things_ that had been packed. “Now, if I were a set of bedrolls, where would I be?” she murmured to herself. Her eyes lit up when, towards the top, she spotted four, thick rolls of cloth. “Aha!”

Standing on her tiptoes, she reached upwards. Her fingertips just _barely_ brushed against the bottom of the closest roll, but she was unable to get a grip on it. She frowned before glancing around; no one seemed to be paying much attention to her. Despite this, she felt her cheeks grow warm with embarrassment as she hopped upwards. Able to get just enough height, she grabbled the first of the bedrolls and pulled it down.

Mei was pulling down the third roll when she heard a noise behind her. Spinning around, she clutched the bedroll to her chest; her eyes widened when she found Yao standing a few feet away, his arms absolutely _filled_ will sticks and twigs and his body partially obscured by some small boulders. She smiled innocently, hoping he hadn’t seen her hopping just then.

Yao’s face turned bright red as he realized he was staring. Without saying anything, he hurried off to deliver the wood to Chien-Po and Su.

She let out a small sigh. “That could have gone better,” she mumbled, shaking her head.

“What could have gone better?”

Her eyes shot open in surprise once more as she held the bedroll up as a shield. Seeing that it was only Mulan who had spoken and not some ne’er-do-well coming to attack her, she let out a sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry,” Mulan said, frowning slightly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” She shifted the bundle of sticks she held, tucking them under one arm. Then, noticing the two bedrolls on the ground and the one Mei held, her brow rose. “Would you like some help getting the last one down?”

Her cheeks flushing once again, Mei nodded sheepishly. “That would be lovely,” she admitted. “I’m just a bit too short to reach them without jumping.”

“That’s fine,” Mulan chuckled. Though she had to stand on tiptoe, she was able to pull the final bedroll down with ease. “There you go. Is there anything you need help with?”

She shook her head. “No, no—these are all I needed. Thank you, though.”

Giving a small nod, Mulan continued on her way. To her surprise, she found the Empress—or Zhi, as she kept reminding the ground to call her—kneeling alongside Yao. Together, they were building the foundation for a fire. Yao’s cheeks, she saw, were a bit pink; she wondered if it was because Zhi was helping him or if something else had happened to make him flustered.

“Ah, there you are, Mulan,” Zhi said, smiling as Mulan added her wood to the pile. “I see that Yao _hadn’t_ gathered all the sticks the area has to offer. By the amount he brought back, I thought he had.”

“I’m just good at findin’ them,” he chuckled, breaking some longer twigs in half. “Bein’ as I’m so close to the ground an’ all…” He tossed the twigs onto the pile for the fire. He started reaching for the flint and steel, but Zhi grabbed them first.

Mulan’s brow rose as she looked at Yao, a knowing grin coming to her lips. “Is that so? I thought you had just offered to bring back the sticks _I_ had gathered, since I found that dead tree.”

His cheeks grew even darker now, his eye widening. “Hey! You know I found a good portion o’ those twigs,” he argued. “Yeah, some o’ those were yours, but most o’ them were _mine_.”

Plucking some dried moss from the sticks, Zhi chuckled. “So long as we have enough firewood to last the night, it does not matter who found the most wood,” she assured him. She started to form the moss into a bowl shape before adding a few, small strips of bark into it.

“True,” Mulan agreed, watching as Zhi carefully started striking the steel against the flint. The contact sent sparks into the moss, but the first few strikes didn’t catch. Her fifth attempt, however, brought success.

“There we go,” Zhi smiled, watching as a tiny flame formed in the moss. With the utmost gentleness, she blew on the flame, urging it to grow larger. A little line of smoke started to weave its way towards the sky as the flame started eating at the bark.

Slowly, but taking care to not burn herself, Zhi lifted the moss and put it in the center of the fire foundation. She then placed a few of the smaller twigs atop the moss. Not long after, the flame grew in size, now hot enough to start eating at the dead twigs and she added bigger ones until the fire was large enough to keep itself going.

“That was the fastest I’ve ever seen a fire be built,” Yao murmured, his eye wide.

“The shape of the fire is the reason,” Zhi told him. “It’s one I learned when I was with the Huns. It burns hot at first, making enough coals for cooking. When you’ve finished cooking, it’s then better for warmth, since it’s been reshaped by pots and kettles.” She then chuckled. “It’s not one you’d want to use inside a house or palace, however. I may have learned that the hard way.”

Mulan blinked, intrigued to learn that Zhi remembered such things. “May I ask how…?”

“Well, as you can imagine, being with the Huns for five years means living as they live— _if_ you want to survive, that is,” she smiled. “It took me nearly as long to readjust to life back at the palace. There were times when I had insisted on making my own meals…and one of those times resulted in me _nearly_ burning the kitchens down.”

“There are still scorch marks on the walls!” Su suddenly chimed in. “Father doesn’t know about them.” She giggled, picking up a parsnip and beginning to peel it.

Zhi smiled as she rolled her eyes. “Now, now: He _did_ find out about them,” she gently scolded, “seventeen years _after_ they were made.” She added some larger branches to the fire.

Yao grinned as Zhi told her story. “Sounds like the time Chien-Po tried t’ teach me how t’ cook. _We_ were outside, though, so I only ended up burnin’ part of a tree.”

“‘ _Part of_ ’ the tree?” Chien-Po repeated, his brow rising ever so slightly.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Yao innocently smiled at the larger man. “Er…okay, so _maybe_ the entire tree burnt down. But, hey! We were warm all night!”

Mulan let out a sigh and covered her face with her hand. “You had the strangest adventures when you were kids.”

“This was not an event of our childhood,” Chien-Po told her. “It happened just last month.”

Su and Zhi started laughing as Mulan slowly looked over to Yao. He still wore the innocent grin, though his cheeks had grown rather dark with embarrassment.

“How?” she asked, her tone incredulous. “ _How_ were you able to set a tree on fire by learning how to cook?!”

Shrugging, he glanced away. “I _may_ have spilled some oil when I was tryin’ t’ fry up some pot stickers.”

“You’re not supposed to use more than a thin coating of oil, though!” Su giggled. “Only the bottoms are supposed to get brown and crispy—not the _whole_ thing, since you finish them off by steaming them.”

“His were finished off with a thick coating of ash and coals for dipping,” Chien-Po sighed, earning another laugh from Su and Zhi.

Zhi’s laughter abruptly stopped as she looked past Chien-Po and Su. Looking in that direction, Mulan saw Senka returning to camp. As they brought their horse to a halt, Shang went over to greet them.

“Pardon me,” Zhi said as she rose to her feet. “I want to know if Senka found anything of interest.”

“What would be of interest up here?” Yao murmured, his brow rising.

“Well, we _are_ close to the pass,” Mulan told him. “There’s a high chance there are at least a _few_ bandits somewhere nearby.”

“Not if Senka found them,” Su mumbled, more to herself than to the others. Realizing she had been heard regardless, her cheeks turned a bit pink. “After all, they are from papa’s personal guard. A few bandits would be an easy task for them.”

Mulan watched as Zhi led Senka away from Shang, taking them inside the royal tent. Her brow rose somewhat; it almost looked as if Zhi was guiding Senka. ‘Maybe she just wanted to make sure one of the princesses didn’t distract them?’ she thought.

It didn’t take Chien-Po and Su much longer to finish the meal preparations and get dinner cooking. Within half an hour, the camp smelled of sizzling meat and sautéing vegetables. Mulan found herself somewhat disappointed that, when the cooking was all done, the princesses and their mother retreated into their tent to eat.

“What was the scouting report?” she asked, glancing over at Shang as she gathered up a bite of rice and carrots.

“No signs of recent activity,” Shang answered, plopping a spoonful of vegetables into his bowl. “But what signs Senka _did_ find told them that whoever used the camp would be back soon—they left stashes of food and blankets.”

Ling cocked his brow and shoved a bite of food into his mouth. Shoving it into his cheek, he asked, “Which means they could be back at any time.”

Shang nodded. “And, sadly, with the other road being washed out, it means the majority of travelers will be taking the pass. But a warning was left for the bandits Senka said.” He sat down on the ground near Mulan.

“What kind of warning?” Yao questioned.

“I’m not sure. They only said that they left a warning.”

“That sounds exceedingly ominous and a little bit frightening.” Ling stuck his tongue out and shook his head. “Anything less creepy to report?”

Chuckling, Shang shook his head. “Thankfully, no,” he replied. “With luck, things will _stay_ that way. The last thing we need is to run into trouble with—” His voice trailed off as he looked over his shoulder.

From the royal tent, they could hear someone singing. The voice was soft enough that they couldn’t make out the words. It didn’t matter; the sound alone was beautiful enough to make the group nearly forget about their meal as they listened.

“Whichever one of them princesses that’s singing right now,” Yao mumbled, his eye wide as he stared at the tent, “has _definitely_ been blessed by the gods t’ have that kind of voice.”

“It doesn’t sound _quite_ young enough to be one of the princesses,” Mulan said. “Maybe it’s Zhi who’s singing…?”

“Maybe,” the others murmured in agreement.

They fell into silence, listening to the singing as they ate. Eventually, though, it came to an end. As she looked over at the lieutenants, Mulan could see that they looked somewhat wistful and a small, knowing grin came to her lips.

Leaning over, she lightly nudged Shang. He looked at her and she nodded at the lieutenants. Upon seeing their expressions, he quietly laughed and rolled his eyes.

“I believe our lieutenants think they may have found their girls worth fighting for,” she softly giggled.

“Gods help us if that’s the truth,” he replied, his voice just as quiet. “Can you imagine all the showing off they’re going to start doing?”

Covering her mouth as she laughed, Mulan nodded. “It’s going to be quite the amusing sight, don’t you think?”

Still grinning, he shook his head and looked back down into his bowl. “At least they’ll make the trip less boring.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left comments on the last chapter! They really helped to make me feel better~! Now if I could just stop questioning whether or not I want to keep the original endgame pairings I had decided on or if I want to change a few...

The next day brought clear skies, but cool air. This high up in the mountains, the cool air was to be expected, however. Wanting to get through the pass as quickly and safely as possible, Shang had sent Senka off nearly an hour before the rest of the group. After packing up their campsite and unpacking their warmer cloaks and coats, they started off.

Zhi chose to ride outside the carriage once again, placing her horse alongside Mulan. She deeply breathed in the crisp air, a sigh of content leaving her mouth. “It’s been a long while since I’ve breathed air this fresh,” she said. “It’s refreshing.”

Mulan cocked her head. “The air in the palace seemed quite refreshing—to me, at least.” Her cheeks turned the slightest bit pink.

“Oh, it can be,” Zhi smiled, “but the air up here is a different sort of refreshing. Up here, the air has a way of clearing your mind and revitalizing your energy. The air of the palace gardens brings more of a calming feeling, leaving you ready for a lovely nap. Or a large meal!” She laughed. “I blame Su. She’s got so many fragrant herbs planted around the area, you can’t help but feel hungry after smelling them.”

“I believe it,” Mulan chuckled. “My mother’s herb garden almost always manages to make me crave _some_ sort of food after I’ve worked in it.” She frowned, clenching her eyes shut as a strong gust of wind suddenly blew past them. “ _Brr_ …”

Ling stuck out his tongue. “If you weren’t awake before that _little_ breeze, you are now,” he murmured. “Isn’t it supposed to be summer by now?”

“Summer in the mountains is _vastly_ different than summer in lower altitudes,” Chien-Po reminded him. “I’m sure we’ll be feeling _much_ warmer once we reached the foothills.” With a small frown, he looked up at the mountains that loomed above them. He visibly shivered and shook his head, looking away from them once more.

Also looking at the mountains, Mulan let out a quiet sigh. They looked so different now that they weren’t covered by a thick layer of snow—they had a far more menacing appearance with their sharp, jagged cliffs and pointed peaks. Biting her lower lip, she unconsciously set her hand over the spot on her right side where she had been injured. Though the cut hadn’t been deep, Shan Yu’s serpentine blade had left her with a nasty-looking scar.

“How long do ya think it’ll take us t’ cross the pass?” Yao asked, pulling her from her thoughts. “Now that we won’t have an army an’ an avalanche t’ deal with…”

“Two hours at the most,” Shang answered. “Another two hours and we’ll be passing through the burned-out village. By evening, should all go well, we will be near to the river.”

Zhi smiled. “I’m _positive_ things will go uneventfully,” she said, her tone optimistic. “Should the weather remain clear like this, I’ve no doubt my daughters will want to get out and walk at some point.”

At that, Shang frowned. “It would be safer for them to stay in the carriage until _after_ we’ve passed through the mountains,” he told her. “I know they don’t like staying cooped up, but Tung Shao isn’t the most friendly of mountain passes. There are too many places where bandits could be hiding.”

Zhi somewhat pouted, though she nodded in understanding. “That is true,” she sighed. “At least when we take a break later, they will be able to stretch their legs a bit.”

Mulan gave her a pitying smile. “Once we’ve gone through the pass, they’ll be able to walk, run, or skip to their heart’s content,” she assured her.

 

The further they rode into the pass, the quieter the group became. Memories of the avalanche, of Shan Yu, and of the revelations about Mulan and Zhu were starting to surface in the soldiers’ minds. Their expressions grew sad and they kept their eyes towards the ground in hopes of avoiding bringing about more memories.

At one point, Ling slowed his horse, letting the others pass by him as he looked around. They were passing by the spot where the army had discovered that Mulan and Zhu were women—and where he had learned that Zhu had murdered Qi. He swallowed hard and slowly breathed through his nose, trying his best to hold back tears. Failing, he used his sleeve to wipe his eyes only to see something in the corner of his vision. With a frown, he turned his horse and went over to wall of rock that was the base of the peak.

Tucked against a large boulder to shield them from the harsh winds and snows, was a small gravestone. His eyes widened; carved into the top was a single name: Qi. Below it, something else had been carved, but he didn’t recognize the characters. They didn’t look Chinese; in fact, they didn’t look like any language he recognized.

“What the…?” he murmured, brows furrowed. Looking back at the group, he saw that they were oblivious to his discovered. He turned his attention back to the headstone, confusion filling his mind. Shaking his head, he rode off.

“Hey, Shang?” he asked once he had caught up with the others.

“Yes?” He glanced over at Ling, his brow rising ever so slightly as he saw his confused expression. “Is everything alright?”

“Y-yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just—were you the one who put that headstone back there?” He kept his voice quiet, not wanting the others to hear.

Shang frowned. “Headstone…? What are you talking about?” He slowed his horse, letting Ling point back at the spot.

“See? There, that little grave beside the rock.” He swallowed hard again and glanced at the general. “It’s for—it’s for Qi. But most of it is written in a weird language.”

Squinting, Shang was just barely able to make out the small headstone against the grey rock surrounding it. “It wasn’t me,” he admitted. “Maybe one of the other soldiers put it there?”

“I don’t know why anyone else would, aside from Yao and Chien-Po,” he sighed. “No one else aside from them knew about Qi, really, until after…well, y’know. Except Zhu. She knew…” He let out a small, sarcastic laugh. “But she’s dead, too, so I doubt it was her.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Ling,” Shang said, a pitying look in his eyes. He set his hand on Ling’s shoulder. “Whoever put it there, though, knew he was deserving of some sort of memorial.” He gave him a small smile.

Ling nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the spot. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I just wish I knew _who_ put it there…”

 

Not more than an hour had passed when they finally met back up with Senka.

“I was beginning to wonder if you had run into trouble,” Shang told them, brow raised.

“I apologize,” they said. “I wanted to make sure the path through the village was clear as well as the pass.”

“Understandable.” He glanced down at their quiver. “No arrows missing, so I take it the coast is clear?”

They nodded. “Yes, though I recommend quickening our pace when we reach the village. It—it doesn’t feel _right_.”

Mulan frowned. “Doesn’t feel ‘right’?” she repeated. “How so?”

“I do not know how to describe it, but you will feel it as we pass through.” They then turned to Zhi. “Emp— _Zhi_ , it would best for you to be with your daughters until we’ve reached the other side.”

For a moment, Zhi was silent as she stared at Senka. Unable to see past their hood and mask, the others couldn’t tell if Senka stared back or was looking elsewhere. Eventually, though, Zhi let out a defeated sigh.

“You’re right,” she admitted. “In case something _does_ happen, I wouldn’t want to be kidnapped again.”

“Thank-you.”

Mulan did her best to stifle a small laugh. The scene was rather familiar to her: Grandmother Fa and Zhou would often get into such arguments, though it was usually Zhou who relented in the end. It almost made her homesick, but she quickly reminded herself that home was where she was going.

‘I wonder if Zhi and the princesses are getting homesick?’ she thought. She then shook her head, brushing some hair from her face. ‘No—no, they wouldn’t be homesick yet. It’s only our second day of traveling. By the end of the week, however…’

Stealing a glance at Zhi, she saw that she was talking happily with Yao about ways to incapacitate a person without killing them. ‘That…is a rather odd topic for an empress,’ she told herself, brow rising. ‘But, from what we’ve seen of her so far, she’s _definitely_ not a typical empress…’

“Mulan?”

Blinking, she turned her head only to find Shang looking at her with concern. “Yes?”

“Are you alright?” he asked. “You’ve been unusually quiet.”

She smiled reassuringly at him. “I’m fine. Just…doing a bit of thinking is all.” Then, tilting her head back somewhat, she looked up at the mountains; they were almost behind them by now. “Hard _not_ to think in a place like this.”

He nodded in agreement. “I know what you mean.” With a small sigh, he looked back at the road ahead of them. “Some people would say it feels just like yesterday that everything happened…But I’m glad to say it feels like it’s been decades.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” She chuckled, glancing over her shoulder at the others. “I’m sure it’ll only feel farther away as even more time passes. And maybe, someday, we’ll be able to travel through here without being reminded of that day.”

“I would hope.” He let out another, heavier sigh. “I’m sorry I abandoned you like that.”

She frowned. “ _Don’t_ ,” she said. “You and I both know you had no other choice. I don’t blame you whatsoever.”

“You may not, but—”

“ _Shang_.” She reached over and gently grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her. “It’s in the past now,” she said, voice somewhat scolding. “It’s best to leave it there, alright? Think of the present and how many good things have happened.” Realizing she was still holding his chin, she quickly pulled her hand back as her cheeks grew warm. “And if you _don’t_ start thinking of good things,” she teasingly threatened, “I’ll have Ling start telling some of his bad jokes.”

Unable to stop himself, Shang let out a laugh. “Oh, that’s _harsh_ , Mulan,” he laughed, rolling his eyes. “Not even the most _vile_ of criminals deserves that sort of treatment.”

“What sort of treatment?” Chien-Po asked, head tilted in curiosity.

“Must be talkin’ ‘bout Ling’s puns,” Yao said, shifting in his seat. “Nothin’ is worse than those things.”

Ling pouted. “Hey! Just because _you_ don’t enjoy my puns doesn’t mean other people don’t!”

Zhi looked at him, surprised. “You enjoy puns?”

He sheepishly smiled, his cheek turning a bit red. “Y-Yeah,” he admitted. “And jokes.”

“He knows some really good ones,” Mulan chirped. “He’s even managed to get _Shang_ to fall over laughing.”

“A hard task!” Zhi exclaimed, delight filling her face. “Ting-Ting can also be quite the jokester and deliverer of puns.” She chuckled. “There was one time she managed to make my husband spit out his tea, he laughed so hard.”

Ling stared at her in awe. “Really?”

Zhi nodded. “She’s certainly the most amusing of my daughters,” she chuckled. “And she has this ridiculous trick she does with a pair of chopsticks—”

“ _Mother_!”

They all looked back at the carriage, only to see Ting-Ting’s bright red face poking out from one of the windows. Mei and Su were looking out from the other side, their hands covering their mouths as they giggled. Ting-Ting, however, looked mortified.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetie,” Zhi chuckled, smiling apologetically. She didn’t notice Ling suddenly digging around in his saddlebag.  “I forgot you don’t—” She was interrupted once again.

“Is it anything like this?” Ling asked. As he turned around, they saw that he had a pair of chopsticks shoved up his nose. Somehow, he was able to wiggle his nose back and forth just enough to make the chopsticks dance.

Zhi and her daughters cried out in amusement. Su started giggling so hard, she toppled backwards into the carriage.

“That’s _my_ chopstick trick!” Ting-Ting gasped, eyes wide. “I didn’t think anyone else could do it!”

“I’ve been doing this since I was a kid,” Ling grinned.

“Yeah, an’ the worst part is he still uses ‘em to eat with,” Yao grumbled.

Ling pouted, which looked utterly ridiculous with the chopsticks still in place. “The eating bits don’t go up my nose,” he protested, crossing his arms.

Yao rolled his eye. “Yeah, but ya use the other ends t’ pick up food from the _communal_ platter! An’ that just spreads your boogers all over _everyone’s_ food.”

Puffing out his chest in indignation, Ling still wore his pout and the chopsticks. “I’ll have you know, my nose hasn’t had a booger in _years_!”

“Yeah, ‘cause it’s so big, they just fall right on out!”

By now, Zhi and the princesses were nearly doubled over with laughter. Shang and Chien-Po, however, looked mortified. As usual, it was impossible to see Senka’s reaction, but they didn’t seem to be paying the feuding lieutenants any mind.

Giggling, Mulan rolled her eyes. “Alright, you two; that’s enough,” she said, leading Khan over to Ling. Reaching over, she pulled the chopsticks from his nose. “The last thing we need is for either of you to fall over the edge of the pass because the two of you got in a fight.” She handed the chopsticks back to Ling, being wary of the ends that were in his nose.

“He started it,” Ling quietly pouted, taking them.

“And _I’m_ finishing it,” she said with a chuckle. “Anyway, the girls need to catch their breath, the two of you had them laughing so hard.”

Both Ling and Yao blinked before turning to look behind them. Ting-Ting and Mei were slumped against the window frames, their faces bright red as they tried to fight back their giggles. Failing miserably, they covered their mouths and ducked back inside the wagon. Even after closing the shutters, however, their laughter could still be heard.

Mulan’s brow rose in amusement as she watched grins slowly spread across the lieutenants’ faces. She closed her eyes and shook her head, smiling to herself. Something told her this wouldn’t be the last time the princesses were left in stitches.

 

About an hour later, the group took a small break, giving them time to relieve themselves and to eat a quick snack. Only a quarter of an hour passed before they were traveling once again and, as had been suggested, Zhi rode in the carriage once more.

Now free of the dangers of the pass, they found themselves following a wide road that gently sloped downwards. Once more, the mood grew somber as Shang, Mulan, and the lieutenants remembered what they had found on this road three years ago. But with no haze of smoke clouding the air or snow covering the ground, the area was almost unrecognizable.

For that, they were thankful.

What they weren’t thankful for, however, was the wind that blew through the area. It nipped at their exposed skin with its bitter coldness—a coldness that was unnatural for this time of year, even in the mountains. Mulan shivered and pulled her coat tighter against her form as she looked around.

She swore she could hear whispering.

Evidently, Shang heard it, too. “Senka, are you _positive_ you found nothing when you came through here earlier?” he asked, keeping his voice quiet.

“I promise you, general,” replied Senka, “we are the only living souls for miles.”

Yao scrunched his nose up, frowning. “I don’t like the way they said that,” he grumbled, speaking more to himself than to the rest of the group. His gravely voice, however, was still heard by Chien-Po and Ling. “Makes me think we’re bein’ watched by a bunch o’ dead people or somethin’…”

“We probably are,” Ling told him, his brow rising slightly as he looked around.

“Oh, don’t go tellin’ me that!” Yao half whined, half pouted. “Ya know how I feel ‘bout spooky stuff!” He raised a hand to his mouth, beginning to bite his fingernails.

Chien-Po gave him a pitying look. “But now you know to take caution so as to not offend the dead,” he said.

“Yeah,” Ling agreed. “The _last_ thing we need is for a bunch of dead Huns to follow us around and haunt us.” He couldn’t help but chuckle as he finished talking, though he quickly stopped when he saw Shang shooting him a glare.

None of them wanted to admit it, but the whispers around them seemed to be growing louder. The breeze, too, was getting stronger…and colder.

“How much further until we’re out of this place?” Mulan asked, looking at Shang and Senka. She did her best to keep her voice even, despite the shivers that shook her body.

“Two miles,” Senka answered.

Shang sighed. “I’d like to put as many miles between us and this place as possible before nightfall.” He squinted against the wind, trying to peer into the distance. His frowned deepened; he thought he could see the outlines of people.

“Don’t look at them.”

He blinked and looked at Senka. “What?”

“Don’t look at them,” they repeated. “The figures. Don’t look at them and don’t listen to the whispers.”

“What would happen if we _did_ look at them or listen to them?” Mulan dared to ask.

“Bad things,” Chien-Po answered, taking her by surprise. As she turned to look at him, she found that his eyes were shut. “ _Very_ bad things, the _best_ of which is a quick death.”

Yao whimpered and clenched his eye shut while continuing to nibble his nails.

“These aren’t the souls of the peaceful dead,” Chien-Po continued. “These are the souls of the _angry_ dead. They want revenge for their deaths and won’t ever rest until they’re either banished or appeased.”

Ling scrunched his nose up and stuck his tongue out. “Great. So, essentially, you’re saying we’ve got to ride through the area with our eyes shut and our fingers in our ears?” As he spoke, he shuddered; it felt like something had breathed against his ear.

“That is one solution,” Senka told him, “though a bit extreme. So long as you avoid _looking_ at the dead, you will be safe. They cannot take you with whispers alone.”

Turning his gaze downwards, Ling let out a small sigh. “And why haven’t they been dealt with yet?” he heard Mulan ask.

_“Ling…”_

His eyes widened; he _knew_ that voice.

_“Ling, it’s been so long! Why haven’t you guys come to visit me? You promised!”_

Swallowing hard, he squeezed his eyes shut. “You’re not my brother,” he whispered, voice so soft, even he could barely himself. “You’re not Qi.”

_“What?”_ A familiar laugh filled his ears, as if Qi were standing right next to him. _”Of course I am! Who else would I be? Master Changpu-poo? I’m_ far _too young and handsome to be that old coot.”_

Ling bit his tongue in an effort to keep himself from laughing. The spirit not only sounded like Qi, but _acted_ like him, too. “N-no,” he managed to argue, still keeping his voice quiet. “No. You’re not Qi. Qi’s dead and has been dead for four years. You’re just—”

_“Ling, the hell you talking about? How can I be dead? Look—I’m standing right here!”_

Before he could stop himself, Ling looked to his left. Seeing a pair of icy-white eyes, he felt his body grow cold and his mind grow numb.

With his eyes closed, Shang didn’t see the lieutenant dismounting his horse, nor could he hear it through the whispers in his own ears.

_“Just look at you! My son, the_ general _!”_ his father’s voice boomed. “ _There isn’t a father alive who could be more proud of you than I!”_

Shang’s brow furrowed, but he said nothing.

_“What? Giving your old man the silent treatment?”_ He could almost _feel_ his father’s laugh in his chest. _“Come on, my boy; you’re not seven anymore! No need for this nonsense. I know I missed the promotion ceremony, but I’m here now.”_

His eyes threatened to water at the thought of his father being able to witness the promotion, but he swallowed hard and held them back. Still, he said nothing.

_“Shang.”_ The voice was now soft and gentle; Shang remembered hearing this tone often when he was a child. _“I really am sorry. Let me make it up to you; let’s get your mother and go—_ ”

Shang’s eyes shot open as he snapped his head up; his body went cold as he abruptly brought Jiang to a halt.

Seeing the sudden movement in the corner of her eye, Mulan risked a quick glance over. It was a bit hard to see Shang through the tears in her eyes, but it was plain as day that he was dismounting. She let out a yelp, fruitlessly reaching out to try and stop him as he took off running.

“Shang!? What are you doing?!” she cried. She tried to spur Khan after him, but the stallion snorted in protest.

“Ling!” Chien-Po yelped. “Ling, come back!”

Glancing over her shoulder, Mulan could see that Ling had also taken off, though he was many yards ahead of Shang. Again, she tried to urge Khan forward, but he squealed, turning in the opposite direction. Letting out a frustrated growl, Mulan practically threw herself off his back.

Senka started to dismount their horse. “The horses won’t the leave the path—they _know_ what lies out there,” they said. They looked towards Yao and Chien-Po. “Do _not_ follow us. Do _not_ watch us.”

Before they could argue, Senka took off. Mulan was on their heels.

“What are we supposed to do when we catch them?” she asked.

“ _If_ we catch them,” they corrected. “We must snap them out of whatever trance they’re in.”

“How?!”

“…I do not know.”

Mulan wanted to turn and frown at them, but Shang suddenly changed direction. Letting out a small curse, she pulled away from Senka to continue following him. Her lungs were beginning to burn; she hadn’t run this much since the fight with Shan Yu.

Something in the distance caught her attention. Squinting, she tried to make out the thing, but with the wind blowing even harder and the constant jostling from her run, it was nearly impossible. As she and Shang drew ever closer to it, however, her eyes widened with sudden realization.

It was the sword Shang had left in honor of his father.

‘He’s running straight for the cliff,’ she thought. ‘He’s going to throw himself over it!’

She willed her legs to move faster. For a moment, it seemed like they listened to her—but only for a moment. Barely half a minute later, her left leg felt like it was going to give out at any second.

Shang was almost to the cliff’s edge, his cape billowing behind him.

Mulan got an idea. With all her might, she threw herself forward and flung out her arm. Feeling cloth against her fingers, she gripped it as tight as she could before hitting the ground. She hissed in pain as her arm was abruptly yanked forward; shortly after, there was a thud. As she looked up, she saw Shang laying flat on his back.

His feet were dangling over the edge of the cliff.

Breathing heavily, Mulan pushed herself to her knees and started to crawl forward. Shang grunted in pain, raising a hand to his head; as she moved closer, she could see that his skin was deathly pale and his lips were tinged blue. Grabbing his shoulders, she grunted as she dragged him a few feet backwards.

She then started to shake him. “Shang! Shang, wake up!”

He did nothing, his body limply wobbling as she shook him.

“Come on, Shang,” she murmured, pressing her ear to his chest. She could hear his heart beating, but only just. Biting her lower lip, she started to lightly slap his face. “You need to wake up!”

Color slowly started to return to his skin and a pained groan left his mouth. “Mulan?” he grunted, confusion mingling with the pain on his face. “What—what happened?”

She let out a relieved sigh and let herself fall back onto her hindquarters. The fall, it seemed, was enough to knock him out of the trance. “You looked at one of the figures,” she told him. “You _almost_ threw yourself over the cliff.”

He frowned up at her as he propped himself up on an elbow. “…What?” He winced and rubbed the back of his head with his free hand.

She gestured towards his feet. “See for yourself.” Brushing some hair from her face, she dared to look around. No figures were in sight, making her frown somewhat. And then she realized: The whispers had stopped.

Sitting all the way up, Shang cursed and scooted even further back. “I—I don’t understand. The last thing I remember is being on my horse, trying to ignore…” His voice faded into silence. Closing his eyes, he let out a heavy sigh. “My father’s voice,” he finished. “I heard my father’s voice.”

Reaching over, Mulan set her hand on his shoulder. “I thought it might’ve been him you heard,” she admitted, voice quiet. She then nodded behind Shang.

He turned only to let out a second sigh. No more than four feet away was his sword, still thrust into the ground. Its blade was rusted and the leather wrapped around its hilt was discolored and beginning to crack in places. Still sitting atop the hilt was his father’s helmet. It, too, had been ravaged by time.

“He was telling me how he was sorry he missed my promotion ceremony,” Shang said, his eyes closing. “And that he wanted to make it up to me.”

Mulan gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Even though you couldn’t see him,” she said, voice soft, “I’m _positive_ the _real_ spirit of your father was right beside you at that ceremony.”

Opening his eyes, he smiled thankfully at her. He opened his mouth to speak, but then frowned again. “Is that…Ling and Senka?” he asked instead, brows furrowing.

“What?!” A curse flew from her mouth as she spun around; she had completely forgotten about Ling! In the distance, she could see Senka standing with Ling over their shoulder. It was obvious Ling was unconscious, but Senka gave a small nod to the two of them, signaling that he was alive. “Oh, thank gods—they got to him in time…”

Still frowning, Shang got to his feet. “I take it he did the same thing as me…?” He held out his hand to help Mulan up.

“Yes,” she said, taking his hand. “Though, I don’t know who’s voice he heard.”

“And where are the others?” He started to brush himself off.

“Back at the road. Senka ordered them to stay there and _not_ come after us.”

Nodding in understanding, he threw a last look over his shoulder at the sword before beginning to walk away. “Thank you, by the way…I should have said that sooner.”

She gave him a tired, but reassuring, smile. “It’s fine. You were distracted.”

“It was still rude of me.”

Mulan couldn’t help but laugh. “Shang, it’s _fine_.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m just—I’m just glad you’re not hurt…or worse. For a while there, I really thought I wasn’t going to reach you in time.”

He smiled down at her. “But you did…for the third time, mind you.” Lifting his brow, he gave her a teasing smile. “And here I was always told that _I_ would be rescuing the damsels—not the damsels rescuing me.”

She giggled. “Well, maybe it wouldn’t happen so often if we didn’t get into so much trouble?” She smiled playfully at him before turning her attention to Senka and Ling. “Is he alright?”

Senka nodded. “He put up a strong fight,” they said. “I had no choice but to knock him unconscious.”

At that, Shang frowned. “That doesn’t sound like Ling…”

“At the time, he _wasn’t_ Ling,” Senka sighed. “His mind didn’t belong to him. It belonged to the spirit masquerading as his brother.”

Shang’s brow the tiniest bit when noticed how Senka seemed to stiffen ever so slightly at their words.

Mulan, however, didn’t notice. Instead, she gave Ling a pitying look. “Do the spirits only take on the identities of deceased loved ones?” she asked as they started the long walk back to the road.

Senka nodded. “It is the easiest way to manipulate their victims.”

“Oh…”

Shang tilted his head. “…Weren’t there any spirits trying to tempt you?” he dared to question.

She bit her lip, feeling her cheeks grow hot. “I…I heard Zhu,” she admitted.

Saying nothing, Shang merely stepped closer to her. He lifted his arm, pausing in hesitation, before wrapping it around her shoulders and pulling her to him comfortingly. He gently rubbed her shoulder.

“I’ll be fine,” Mulan assured him. “It was just…unnerving. It sounded like she was right next to me. But I know she wasn’t.” Letting out a heavy sigh, she watched as Senka walked past them. She couldn’t tell if they had quickened their pace or if she and Shang had slowed theirs.

‘I wonder if they heard any voices…?’ she thought, unconsciously nuzzling against Shang. ‘I don’t think I should ask, though. Even if I did, I doubt they would tell me.’

“What are we going to do with Ling?” she asked instead. “It’s not safe for him to be on a horse like this.”

“He can ride with Yao or Chien-Po,” Shang answered. He then looked down at Mulan with a knowing look. “We are _not_ going to put him in the carriage with Zhi and the princesses.”

She mirrored his expression. “Of course not. He’d wake up and, thinking he died and went to heaven, would start flirting with the princesses.” She giggled. “The last thing we need is for the princesses to hear his cheesy pick-up lines _this_ early in the trip.”

“Oh, I’m sure they wouldn’t be the worst pick-up lines they’ve heard,” Shang chuckled. “You have no idea how socially awkward nobility can be.”


	7. Chapter 7

Though it took two more days of travel, the group was soon able to leave the frigid mountains behind them. No longer did they have to worry about the dead trying to lure them into death or not having enough blankets while they slept. Instead, they found themselves becoming rejuvenated in both mind and body the longer they soaked up the warmth of late spring.

Within a week’s travel, the mountains had disappeared from sight. They were now traveling through wide, open fields. For miles around them, nothing but grass and the road could be seen.

No longer needing to worry about their identities being found out, Zhi and the princesses found themselves outside the carriage more than in. It was obvious to Mulan and the lieutenants that this was the most freedom the women had had in a long time: Mei sat alongside Yao, working on some embroidery as she chatted freely with her sisters and the lieutenants. Ting-Ting sat beside Chien-Po, her sleeves rolled up and her dress covered in wood shavings; three of her fingers already bore small cuts, but she paid them no heed. Su, mounted atop Senka’s horse while the bodyguard walked alongside, was looking around, eagerly searching for any edible plants.

“What’re makin’ over there, Ting-Ting?” Yao asked. Both Shang and Mulan were relieved that the lieutenants and the princesses felt more at ease around each other.

“I’m not sure yet,” she admitted, turning the piece of wood over in her hands. She narrowed her eyes, inspecting its grain before beginning to carve around a knot. “Truthfully, I’m just getting myself reacquainted with my tools. It’s been a few months since I last carved anything.”

Ling cocked his head, brow rising. “Why’s that?”

“I promised father I wouldn’t carve anything during festival season,” she sighed. “Should I meet a potential suitor, he doesn’t want my hands to be calloused and full of splinters. ‘A princess’ hands must be as soft as silk and be as pale as milk’.”

“‘Likewise, her face must be pale. Should she wish to go outside, a hat must be worn or a parasol used to shade her skin’,” Su recited, the words leaving her mouth dripping with sarcasm. “‘Her nails _must_ be cleaned of any dirt or food and she should _never_ allow herself to touch any tool meant for gardening or housework’.”

Mei joined in. “‘A princess must also wear the clothing indicative of her status. But do not be too bold! Too much adornment can make one appear vain and unsuited for marriage.’”

All three wore varying looks of disgust.

“To put it simply,” Zhi said, “their father wishes they would be more like princesses rather than other women.”

“But you don’t?” Mulan asked, brows somewhat furrowed.

Zhi gave her a tired smile. “I know how tedious it can be to be a _woman_ raised by royalty to _be_ royalty. I love my husband dearly, but as a man, he simply _cannot_ understand how stressful our lives can be.” A small sigh left her mouth and she tilted her head back, looking up at the sky. “To those outside the palace walls, the life of an Empress or a princess may seem like a dream. We have servants who tend to our every need. We have wardrobes full of beautiful clothing. Men flock to us in hopes of winning us over…”

“But, in reality, we constantly have to be aware of every little detail,” Ting-Ting said. “We must always be aware of how we look, how we act, how we _react_. If we were to do or say one wrong thing, our family’s honor could be at stake.”

“And you would think having servants around at all times would be a relief,” Su added, “but it’s _not_. We’re _never_ alone! We can’t even _fart_ without someone hurrying over with a fan to waft it away!” A small smile came to her lips as she heard the lieutenants snicker.

“Su!” Mei scolded, her eyes widening in horror. “That’s disgusting!”

“It’s _true_ , though!” she cried. “We’ve _constantly_ have someone watching us! Meanwhile, our siblings get to run around and be themselves!”

“Siblings?” Yao asked, brow rising. “There are more princesses than you three?”

“The Emperor has concubines,” Chien-Po gently reminded him. “They are, in a way, princesses, but they do not have the same privileges as the children of the First Wife.”

“Oh…yeah…forgot about them,” Yao murmured, cheeks growing dark. “But, uh…hey! At least ya don’t have t’ worry about any of that prim an’ proper stuff anymore! Gods know we won’t be judgin’ ya if ya belch or fart ‘cause we’ll probably do worse.”

“Yao!” Shang scolded, his eyes wide.

“No ‘probably’ about it!” Ling laughed, his brow rising as he looked over at Yao. “You, alone, _can_ do far worse than the rest of us combined.”

Yao glared at him. “If I recall, noodle-boy, it was yous who cleared out the dinin’ tent back at Moo-Shung!”

The princesses started laughing so hard, their cheeks were turning red. Su nearly toppled over from her giggling when Ling puffed out his chest like a proud pigeon.

“You two are disgusting,” Shang groaned, resting his face in his palm.

Mulan was laughing heartily. “Shang, you _know_ it’s true,” she told him, her cheeks pink. “And don’t pretend you’re above such antics. You’ve joined in a time or two!”

He frowned, cheeks turning bright red as the princesses burst out giggling. “You’ve done it, too,” he grumbled. He glanced ahead of them as a flock of birds came to land in the grass.

“No,” she corrected. “ _Ping_ did it. _I_ just laugh at their antics now.” There was a broad, innocent grin on her face.

“I don’t think my daughters will come to be that… _carefree_ ,” Zhi chuckled. “But yes, it will be a relief not having to worry how we present ourselves for some time.” Watching as Senka grabbed their bow and began to string it, her brow rose. “Senka, what is it?”

“Grouse,” they replied.

Su’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, grouse? Where?” she chirped, sitting up straight in the saddle and looking around. “I’ve always wanted to try grouse!”

“They landed not far away.” Drawing three arrows from their quiver, they then picked up a rock from the ground.

“We can stop for a few minutes if you’d like,” Shang told them. “There’d be less chance of your prey being disturbed.”

Senka shook their head. “There is no need.” Holding their bow and arrows in the same hand, they moved off to the side of the road. Then, judging the distance between them and where they had seen the grouse land, they chucked the stone.

In a flash, the birds took off in a flurry of wings and tails. It was nearly impossible to tell where one grouse ended and where another began from where the group was. And yet, the flock’s largest three birds plummeted back down to the ground. After a few seconds’ delay, a fourth soon followed.

Wordlessly, Senka sprinted off to retrieve their trophies. By the time they had returned to the road, the rest had caught up with them. The birds were large enough that they would be able to feed the entire group that night.

“That was some good shootin’, Senka!” Yao congratulated.

Ling’s brow rose. “How were you able to tell the birds apart? It just looked like one massive blob of feathers to me.”

Pulling an arrow from one of the birds’ skulls, Senka merely replied with, “I’m observant.” They flicked the brain matter and blood from the arrows before replacing them inside the quiver.

A small frown came to Mulan’s lips. ‘I’ve heard that phrase before,’ she told herself. ‘Zhu used it quite a bit…’ Brushing some hair from her face, she stole a peek at Senka; they had handed the birds to Su, allowing her to inspect them as they unstrung their bow. ‘What am I thinking? It’s just a phrase. I’m sure hunters _everywhere_ use it—at least, the _good_ hunters would use it.’

 

When night began to fall, it found the group setting up camp near a river. This was a welcome sight to the women; they had been longing for the chance to take a bath. Not only were they covered in dust and dirt from traveling, but the warm air made them sweat.

Their only consolation was the fact that the Senka and the men smelled just as bad, if not worse.

Getting Shang to allow them to go bathe without Senka watching over them, however, proved to be a challenge. They didn’t need a second guard, Su had told him, since Mulan would be there with them. Senka had done more walking than riding that day, Ting-Ting had said, they could use some rest. How would they like it, Mei suggested, if they made Senka watch _them_ while _they_ bathed?

Eventually, he had no choice but to relent. Despite Mulan’s assurances that they would be fine, he still paced around the camp impatiently.

“What if they’re attacked?” he frowned, hands behind his back. “Only Mulan knows how to fight, but I doubt she knows how to fight naked!”

“ _No one_ is going to attack them, Shang,” Ling said, rolling his eyes. His sleeves were rolled up and his lap covered in feathers as he plucked on of the grouse. “There’s nowhere for bandits to hide; we’re on flat ground. _Plus_ , Senka is still out there somewhere, scouting.”

“They could be attacked by a wild animal!” he argued. “There could be cobras or tigers or bears!”

“ _Oh my_ ,” Yao replied, voice heavy with sarcasm. “Ya do realize two o’ those animals live in the jungles t’ the south while bears are found more t’ the north, right?” He then jerked his thumb towards the horses and oxen. “Not t’ mention, the animals would be uneasy if any predators were about.”

Glancing over at the animals, Shang found them as calm as ever. “We could be upwind of any danger…” He blinked as a wooden mug was suddenly pressed into his hands.

“Drink this,” Chien-Po gently ordered. “ _All_ of it. It will help you calm down and cease your overreacting.”

He looked down in the mug, but the dying light made it hard to see what color its contents were. Sighing, he decided it was probably best he _didn’t_ know what it contained and started to drink it. He almost instantly regretted chugging it: Not only did it taste horrible, but it was still quite hot.

“What _is_ this?” he wheezed once the mug was empty. His mouth tasted like he had eaten a field of flowers and his throat felt like it was on fire.

“Lavender-infused tea, with a bit of honey, water, and a few other calming herbs,” answered Chien-Po. He ignored Ling and Yao as they stared at him, wide-eyed and slack jawed. Soon, though, the two started to snicker. “It’s a mixture I use on Yao when he’s too worked up to meditate.”

Shang didn’t like the sound of that _or_ the fact that Ling and Yao were snickering. Nor was he enjoying the bit of heavy-headedness he was starting to feel. “ _What_ other calming herbs did you use?” he demanded.

“Oh, nothing out of the ordinary,” Chien-Po chirped. Grabbing a basket of dried fruit from the back of the wagon, he went to side beside Yao. “Just some mugwort, ginger, and valerian…”

“… _Valerian_?” Shang repeated, staring incredulously at Chien-Po.

“Yes,” he replied.

Ling started to laugh harder as he plopped a plucked grouse atop Yao. “You made him a knock-out drink?! Chien-Po, that’s utterly devious of you!” Glancing over at him, he saw a small smile on Chien-Po’s lips.

Shang’s brows furrowed. “Ling, now isn’t the time for joking,” he scolded. For some reason, his limbs were beginning to feel a bit heavy.

“Joking? I’m being serious!” Ling pouted. “That _was_ devious of Chien-Po, sneaking you some valerian like that.” He looked down, beginning to pluck the third of the four grouses.

“Ya might want t’ take a leak an’ hit the hay,” Yao told him, a bit of a chuckle still in his voice.

Shang scowled. “I’ll have you know, I’m going to be perfectly fine,” he stated. He then covered his mouth as he yawned. “It’s only a sedative, _not_ a tranquilizer. It’ll just make me calm.”

“In small doses, yes,” Chien-Po agreed. “But I did not give you a _small_ dose.” He looked up at the general, a pleasant smile still on his face. “Yao is correct, by the way. You may want to relieve yourself and head to your tent for the night. It should be kicking in within the next ten minutes.”

Staring at him in disbelief, Shang felt his eyelids beginning to grow heavy. He then pointed at the three lieutenants. “When I—When I wake up in the morning—” Pausing, he covered his mouth as he yawned a second time, “—you three are in _big_ trouble.” Turning away from them, he started to walk away.

But then his legs gave out.

The lieutenants swore as Shang started to tumble forward. Before any of them could reach their feet, however, Ling let out a surprised yelp as something shoved past him. A blur of red and black raced across the area, reaching Shang before he could hit the ground.

“What happened?” Senka demanded, holding Shang upright as they searched him for injuries.

A relieved sigh left Yao’s mouth. “He’s fine,” he said, plopping back down. “He drank some tea laced with valerian is all.”

Thought they couldn’t see it, the three _knew_ Senka was scowling at them. “ _What_?” they repeated. “I wasn’t gone even half an hour—how did it work _that_ fast on him?!”

“He had an empty stomach,” Chien-Po explained. “Empty stomachs make for faster-acting drinks.”

Having pushed himself upright, Ling looked over at Senka. “He needed it, though. He was going to wear a hole in the ground with all his pacing!” He wiped some dirt and feathers off his face.

Senka sighed and shook their head as they lifted Shang into their arms. Saying nothing, they started to carry Shang to his tent.

Standing up, Yao grabbed the grouse and a knife. “Think they’re mad at us?” he asked, heading to a bucket. It contained the blood, heads, and innards of the first two grouse.

“Maybe,” Ling said with a shrug. “I don’t think they really have emotions. They’re kind of like a living statue, y’know?”

A thoughtful look came to Chien-Po face and he paused in his fruit chopping. “While it is highly unlikely, it _is_ possible,” he admitted, much to the surprise of the other two. “It would require a great amount of magic, but I believe I have heard of it being done before.”

Yao blew a raspberry. “Senka is _not_ a livin’ statue,” he stated matter-of-factly. There was a disgusting crack as he cut off the chicken’s head and held it upside down, draining it of blood. “If they were, then their poor horse would have a broken back! Do ya know how _heavy_ human-sized statues are?”

“Unless they were hollowed out!” Ling suggested. “That’d make them about human weight.”

“It also depends on the material used to build them,” Chien-Po added. “Wood and clay are lighter than stone.”

“I assure you, I am human just like the rest of you.”

Ling shrieked, the grouse flying from his hands; no one paid it any heed as it landed in the fire. Instead, he glared across the fire at Senka, who was now sitting cross-legged. “Why are you so much like a—like a—like a _fart_?!” he cried, hands flung out dramatically.

Their head tilted slightly. “… _Excuse me_?”

“You’re like a _fart_!” Ling repeated, now crossing his arms and pouting. “One of those silent, but deadly ones! Here we are, minding our own business and then you come out of _nowhere_ and scare the living daylights out of me like some sort of—some sort of mercenary with a cruel sense of humor!”

Yao and Chien-Po stared at Ling in horror. They knew Ling didn’t always have the _best_ way with words, but accusing the _imperial bodyguard_ of being akin to a fart? And to their face, no less! They would have _never_ thought he’d do such a thing.

Senka was silent for a moment. The quiet made Ling almost instantly regret calling them a fart. He shrank back slightly and tried to swallow the fear that now filled him. Glancing over at Chien-Po and Yao, he found them staring at him with wide eyes and their lips clamped shut.

At long last, Senka spoke. “There are worse things I could be likened to,” they said with a small shrug. They then rose to their feet. “You’re letting the bird burn.” They nodded towards the fire before heading towards the wagon. As they pulled back the canvas curtain, they could hear Ling and Chien-Po start cursing as they tried to salvage the grouse.

Yao glanced up from his gutting work, watching Senka as they searched through the back of the wagon. Thanks to his short stature, he found himself with a unique advantage: He could just _barely_ see under their helmet. At the moment, however, there wasn’t much to see aside from shadows. And so, he spent the next few minutes continuously glancing between his work and their face, hoping to spot at least _some_ sort indication that they were truly human.

It was as he was rinsing the now-cleaned grouse off in a bucket of water that he got his chance. Stealing a peek up at Senka, Yao watched as they pulled their mask down just enough to take a bite from an apple. With just barely enough firelight reflecting off their armor, he was able to get a quick look at their face.

His eye widened in a mixture of horror and shock and he felt his face grow pale.

Before Senka could catch him, he gave the rinsed-off grouse a good shake before returning to his spot between Ling and Chien-Po. Wordlessly, he started to cut the bird up into different pieces.

“Are you feeling alright, Yao?” Chien-Po asked when he was handed the meat. “You look quite pale.”

“It’s nothin’,” he mumbled.

Chien-Po frowned, now growing worried. “Are you certain? If you’re not feeling well, I could take over the butchering so you could get some rest.”

“I’ll tell ya later.”

As Senka walked by, Chien-Po could see that Yao had his eye fixed on them. But he was forced to look away from the bodyguard as Ling handed him the final grouse. Standing up, he went to go gut it.

Seeing Senka walking away, Ling cocked a brow. “Where’re you goin’?” he demanded, brushing features from his arms.

“To check on the women,” they replied. “I will return shortly.”

“No more sneaking up on us!” Ling called after them. “We almost lost part of dinner because of you!”

“I can make no promises.”

Half-glaring, half-pouting at their retreating back, Ling started to gather up the feathers he had set aside for Mei and Ting-Ting. “I bet you _enjoyed_ making me scream like a girl,” he grumbled.

“I—I don’t think it’s a good idea t’ get on their bad side, Ling.”

Brow rising, he turned to look at Yao. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“Callin’ them a fart an’ all that,” he answered, his voice wavering a bit. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

He dismissively waved his hand at him. “It’s all in good fun,” he chuckled. “They know I’m just joking around.”

“I don’t know…”

Chien-Po turned, worry still on his features. “Yao, _what_ is troubling you?” he asked. Though his voice was gentle, there was a certain demanding lilt to it. “You were laughing and joking just a few minutes ago and now you’re a frightened wreck.”

For some minutes, Yao was silent as he went about his butchering duties. After rinsing off the third grouse and returning to his spot, he let out a sigh. He motioned for the other two to lean in closer to him.

“I saw Senka’s face,” he whispered. For once, he was actually able to keep his voice quiet.

Ling’s jaw dropped and Chien-Po’s eyes widened. “You did?” they whispered in unison.

He nodded. “Yeah…an’…an’ guys? I know we was jokin’ earlier about them not bein’ human, but I don’t think we were far off.”

“What do you mean? They seem fairly human to me,” Chien-Po frowned.

“Maybe they were human a few years ago, but they ain’t no more. Or maybe they are, but they certainly ain’t a _living_ human.” Yao glanced around, making sure Senka was nowhere to be seen. Then, lowering the volume of his voice even more, he whispered, “Nah, it ain’t a livin’ human. This thing’s an undead—an’ not just any undead. It’s _Zhu_.”

Ling stared at him for a moment before bursting out laughing. “That’s a good one!” he cackled, falling back on his hindquarters. “An undead? Let alone an undead _Zhu_?” He laughed so hard, he snorted.

Yao growled, punching him, hard, on the arm. “I’m tellin’ the truth!” he snapped. “I’d know that face _anywhere_!”

Chien-Po wasn’t laughing, though he wore a doubtful look. “Yao, she and Shan Yu were—were _blown_ to bits. You know as well as I that Zhu cannot come back as an undead without a body.”

“Maybe enough o’ her body survived the explosion t’ let her come back as an undead,” he argued, “because I _know_ who I saw.”

“Or _maybe_ ,” Ling started, “ _maybe_ the Emperor had a likeness of her carved into a statue and brought to life?” He snickered, though the others could tell that his laughter was a cover up for his nerves.

Chien-Po shook his head. “ _That_ is more unlikely than Senka being an undead.” With a sigh, he looked at Yao with an apologetic expression. “Yao, don’t you think Shang would tell us if Senka was actually Zhu? Or he would _at least_ tell Mulan, who would then tell us.”

Yao looked between him and Ling, his face filled with hurt. “Ya really don’t believe me, do ya?”

“I’m sorry, Yao,” Chien-Po sighed, “but it’s just too unlikely. Perhaps the light only made Senka _look_ like Zhu from your angle. But them actually _being_ Zhu is impossible.”

Ling patted him on the shoulder, though he said nothing. He then went back to sorting the useful feathers from the useless. Chien-Po returned to his dinner prep. When Yao stood up and left, he let out an unhappy sigh.

“It was just wishful thinking,” Ling said, voice soft. “You _know_ that.”

“I do,” he admitted. “But he seemed so…so _convinced_.” He looked over at Ling only to find him staring into the fire once more. “Stranger things have happened.”

“Yeah, in _stories_.”

“Are our lives not stories of our own creation?”

“Then why would _she_ get to come back instead of Qi?!” Ling suddenly snapped. “Why would the gods bring her back when she, herself, told me she’d rather be the one who’s dead instead of Qi?” He swallowed hard, not caring that tears were starting to sting his eyes. “But guess what? He’s still dead. _Zhu’s_ still dead. It was just _wishful thinking_ that made Yao think Senka had Zhu’s face.”

Chien-Po reached over, resting his hand on Ling’s shoulder.

Letting out a shaky sigh, Ling tiredly rubbed his face. “I’m sorry I snapped,” he murmured. “It’s—it’s not that I don’t want Zhu back. I do. But I want my brother back more.”

“As do Yao and I.”

Wiping his nose on his sleeve, Ling slouched forward. “How’re we going to cheer him up?” he sighed. “Aside from finding something for him to beat up?”

He shook his head. “I do not know,” he admitted. “Aside from proving him right, I don’t think there’s anything we _can_ do.”

“Yeah…”

“This is Yao, though.” He gave Ling a reassuring smile. “He will be mad for a few hours, but then he will be back to his usual self by morning.”

Nodding, he let out a small chuckle. “True.” Plucking some feathers from his shirt, he sighed. “I just hope he doesn’t try to _prove_ he’s right…the last thing we need is for him to tackle Senka and rip off their mask or something embarrassing like that.”

“I would say we should give them a small warning just in case, but something tells me it would be best to _not_ let Senka know Yao saw their face.”

“Good point.” He was quiet for a moment. Then, glancing at Chien-Po from the corner of his eye, he grinned. “Say he _did_ tackle Senka…who do you think would win the resulting brawl?”

Rolling his eyes, Chien-Po smiled. “Hard to say. We haven’t seen the full extent of Senka’s abilities or strength yet. Yao, however, is small, strong, and stubborn. If anything, he would win out of pure spite.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. An early, 2-chapter update because 1) the next month or so is going to be kind of hectic for me and, 2) there's a lot of negativity in my life right now so I'm trying to counter it somewhat by making others happy. Anyway. Hope you enjoy.

The passing of another week saw the group of travelers leave the wide, open fields in favor of closed-in forests. It was somewhat of a refreshing change of scenery; the princesses appreciated the shade from the sun and the cooler air, especially. Shang, Mulan, and the lieutenants, though, were left on high alert—the forest could provide ample cover for any bandits that may try to attack.

Their fears were eased a bit whenever Senka returned from scouting to report that they had found nothing, though.

Ling and Chien-Po found themselves also grateful that Yao had yet to try anything against Senka. He did, however, watch them with a great deal of wariness and, if he was forced to speak to them, he kept his words short and to-the-point. With his friends, however, he acted quite normal.

 

It was before noon when the group abruptly reached the end of the forest. Coming to a halt, they found themselves standing at the edge of an enormous clearing. About a hundred yards ahead of them was town encircled by an earth-and-wood wall. In the distance, they could see miles of farmland; the very edge of the horizon was uneven, making them wonder if there was going to be another forest for them to go through.

Shang’s brow rose as he looked over at Senka. “You didn’t mention a town in your scouting report.”

“I did not scout _this_ far ahead,” they replied, facing straight ahead.

“Well, it’s a pleasant surprise,” Mulan chirped. She gave Shang a smile. “Don’t you think? We can resupply and maybe stay at an inn for a night.”

A small frown came to his lips. “I’m not so sure it’s a good idea to stop for _that_ long. You do remember who we’re traveling with, right?”

She gave him a look. “Yes, I do,” she retorted. “But we’ve been traveling for two weeks straight. Don’t you think it’d be nice to sleep in an actual bed for _one_ night?”

“ _I_ know it’d be nice to sleep in an actual bed,” Ling interjected.

Chien-Po nodded in agreement. “The ground has been quite dusty these past few nights. A real bed would be a lovely reprieve.”

Yao dismissively waved his hand. “Bah. I’m fine with sleepin’ on the ground.” A wide grin appeared on his face. “ _However_ , a nice mug o’ liquor would be a nice change o’ pace.”

“That is the _last_ thing we need you drinking,” Shang half-scolded. “And we _certainly_ don’t want the others around drunken men…”

“Who said anythin’ ‘bout gettin’ drunk?” Yao snorted. “I ain’t a featherweight like _you_. I can actually hold my liquor!”

Mulan giggled as Shang’s cheeks turned dark red. “I didn’t know you couldn’t hold your drink,” she lightly teased.

He threw a glare in Yao’s direction. “I never thought it important enough to disclose,” he grumbled.

“Is something wrong?” They all turned, seeing Zhi poking her head out from the carriage. “Why are we stopped?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Shang assured her. “We just unexpectedly reached a town is all.”

Su poked her head out below her mother’s. “A town?” she chirped, eyes wide. “Are we going to stop? Oh, if we do, can I look around the food market?”

“A market?” Mei’s head now popped out of the window on the opposite side of the carriage. “Are we going to be allowed to do a bit of shopping? I’d _love_ to see what fabric patterns are common in this area!”

Ting-Ting leaned out behind her sister. “I’d just like to explore in general!”

Looking over at Shang, Mulan found his eyes closed and a bit of frustration on his face. She reached over and set her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure it’ll be perfectly fine if we stay here _one_ night,” she told him. “It’s not like we have a set date to arrive in Tianshui, after all.”

“I know,” he sighed. “I just—I just don’t want anyone to recognize them.”

“Who’s going to recognize us?” Su asked, a brow raised. “No one outside the capital has really seen what we look like.”

“Yeah,” Yao agreed. “They’d just be normal women t’ the folks in that town. An’ if they’re travelin’ with us, _no one_ is goin’ t’ their think they’re royalty. I mean…Look at us!” He gestured to himself, Ling, and Chien-Po. “Do we look anythin’ like royal escorts?”

Ling snorted. “Yeah, _Shang_. The only one who looks like the _least_ bit important is you. Er…well, Senka kind of does, but they’re more intimidating than anything. No offense.”

“None taken.”

Shang tiredly rubbed his face. “Alright, alright…we can spend _one_ night in the town,” he relented. “But I want the lieutenants to accompany the princesses. And Zhi, you should go with—”

“I will go with Senka,” she finished for him.

Senka turned, looking at her. “I do not think it wise for me to accompany you into the town,” they said, taking everyone by surprise. “I would draw unwanted attention.”

“Ya could take off the mask an’ helmet,” Yao suggested, shrugging as he glanced away. There was a bit of sarcasm to his voice. “Then you’d just look like a normal officer.” He ignored the looks of concern from Ling and Chien-Po.

“I would rather not.”

A pout came to Yao’s face and the other two lieutenants sighed in relief when he didn’t press the issue.

Zhi lightly shook her head. “Suspicious or not, Senka, you are coming with us,” she stated, her tone firm and motherly. “And you _will_ accompany me.”

Mulan could tell Senka badly wanted to argue against the empress, but they withheld themselves. “If those are your orders, my lady, then they shall be done,” they instead murmured.

“Good,” Zhi chirped. “Now, let’s get on the move again before my daughters throw themselves out the windows and take off running.”

 

Once inside the town walls, the group found that the place was _packed_ with people. There were also all sorts of brightly-colored decorations strung up around the place. Most of the decorations, they saw, were of a certain type of butterfly with colorful wings and a yellow body.

They soon discovered the reasons for the decorations: The town was holding its annual festival in honor of the butterfly’s migration through the area. The migration, they learned, ensured that their crops would be well-pollenated and their harvests bountiful come the following autumn.

They also came to learn that there weren’t _any_ available rooms in the town’s three inns. After learning of the festival, this didn’t come as much of a surprise to them. Despite being unable to stay at an inn, Zhi and the princesses were still eager to take a break from traveling to explore the town. As such, they stopped the animals just outside the town’s western gate.

Afterwards, they paired up and went their separate ways. Mulan and Shang would remain with the animals. Su practically dragged Chien-Po off to go find some food vendors while Mei let Yao clear a path for her on their way to the market. Ting-Ting and Ling, both being tall and lanky, had an easy time wading through the crowd as they went off to explore, leaving Zhi to lead the way as she and Senka chose a random direction to go in.

 

“Look at all these different foods!” Su’s eyes were as wide as saucers as she skipped from vendor to vendor. “I’ve never seen this much fried food in my _life_! There’s fried fish, fried chicken, fried pork—is that a fried _spider_?”

Chien-Po covered his mouth, hiding a laugh as Su leaned away from the creepy-crawly-on-a-stick. “Insects are actually quite nutritious!” he told her. “Some of them can even be quite tasty, too. But, I don’t find spiders to be one of those. Crickets, on the other hand…”

She looked up at him, her brow slowly rising. “Really?”

He nodded. “And ants,” he added. “When prepared properly, they make for excellent eating!”

Giving the fried spider a wary look, she lightly shook her head. “I think I’ll stay _away_ from bugs for now.”

“Then may I suggest trying some of the different types zongzi?” he offered, motioning at a vendor across the way. “I particularly enjoy the ones filled with chestnuts.”

“Ooh, I like the ones filled with bean paste. The meat ones aren’t _too_ bad, but the one I’ve had in the past haven’t been seasoned as much as they could have been.” She pulled a small coin purse out of her sleeve before buying six of the zongzi; three chestnut and three bean paste.

Chien-Po felt his cheeks grow a bit pink as she held the three chestnut ones to him. “Thank you,” he said. “You didn’t have to, however.”

She smiled up at him as she unwrapped one of the dumplings. “No, but I _wanted_ to,” she told him. “After all the help you’ve given us—and will _continue_ to give us—it’s the least I can do.” She took a bite of the zongzi.

“Well, it is our job,” he said, also unwrapping a dumpling. “But…It has been a nice change, having someone to talk to about food and gardening. Ling and Yao aren’t exactly the most…”

“Horticulturally and culinarily minded?” she offered with a giggle.

He chuckled. “Precisely.” He then took a bite of dumpling, a pleased sound leaving his mouth. It was _delicious_.

“My sisters aren’t, either. As I’m sure you’ve noticed.” She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and took another bite. “Mei’s the girly-girl of us,” she said, the bite tucked into her cheek, “so she doesn’t really like getting dirty. And she _especially_ hates worms.” She quickly chewed and swallowed the bite. “Ting-Ting _seems_ more easy going, but…Most of the time, she’s like Shang. Uptight, prim, and proper…She’s usually the one scolding me if I get my dress dirty while I’m gardening.”

“Well, she is the eldest of you three. I would imagine that places a great deal of stress on her shoulders.” He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing away. “…To be honest, I am surprised she is not yet married.”

She nodded in agreement. “I don’t know why she isn’t yet, either, but…I’m glad she’s not. She can be a pain in the rear-end at times, but she’s still my sister and I love her. And I don’t want to see her in an unhappy marriage just because it would strengthen some political alliance.” A heavy sigh left her mouth. “I don’t want _any_ of my family in purely-political marriages. It just doesn’t seem right.”

“No, it doesn’t,” he agreed. “But, sometimes, they are the only things that can prevent a war from happening. And, I’m sure there have been _some_ political marriages where the spouses ended up loving one another.”

“My parents are one of those.” She shoved the last bite in her mouth. “Kind of. Mother didn’t want to marry papa at first, since he’s so much older than her.” She licked her fingers clean before subtly wiping them on the inside of her sleeve. “But, she eventually fell for him. I’m not sure how—I think being kidnapped played into it.”

“It could have,” he agreed, finishing his dumpling as well. “Absence has a way of making the heart grow fonder.”

She shrugged. “I guess. I—I don’t really know much about all that love stuff.” Her cheeks started to burn in embarrassment. “It confuses me more than anything. Mei would know, though. She’s a romantic.”

“It’s perfectly fine to be confused over such things,” he assured her. “Love is complicated and comes in many different forms. It would be difficult to understand them all.”

Su shyly smiled up at him. “I’m glad to hear that I’m not strange for finding it confusing, then,” she told him. Suddenly, her eyes widened and her jaw nearly fell slack as she caught sight of something behind him.

Chien-Po turned, searching for the source of her surprise. His own eyes soon widened when he found what she was looking at: At the end of the street was a vendor selling cooking vessels and utensils. Hanging on the back wall was an _enormous_ wok.

“I _need_ that wok,” Su murmured, her feet starting to take her towards the vendor of their own accord.

Chien-Po hurried to catch up with her. “Will there be enough room in the wagon for it?” he asked, brows furrowing ever so slightly. Truthfully, _he_ wanted that wok, too. His mind was already racing with all the different recipes he could make in it.

She looked over her shoulder at him, grinning mischievously. “If there isn’t? Then I’ll _make_ room for it!”

 

“Oh, the patterns on this one are just _exquisite!_ Just look at that detail! This must have taken _forever_ to weave!”

“Y-yeah, it’s real nice! The colors all go well together.”

“Yes, they _do_! Ooh, and look at this one—oh, it’s got tiny butterflies embroidered into it! How darling!” Picking up a corner of the fabric, Mei rubbed her fingers on it. “Ooh, now _this_ is what silk _should_ feel like.”

Yao, who really had no idea that there were different varieties of silk, managed a small smile. “I bet it’s real nice,” he said, “but wouldn’t all them butterflies sewn into it get itchy after a while?”

Mei blinked, staring at him for a few seconds. Her cheeks then turned pink and a nervous laugh left her mouth. “I’m really sorry,” she told him, setting the fabric down. “I always forget that not everyone is as obsessed with cloth making as I. I must sound like a lunatic.”

“Ya sound perfectly sane,” he told her, frowning slightly. “Ya should be proud ta know somethin’ so well. I bet there ain’t a lot o’ people out there who know ‘bout cloth makin’.”

A bashful smile came to her lips. “Perhaps not ones of _my_ status,” she told him, voice quiet, “but there are plenty of people out there who know it far better than I.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Well, then, why don’t ya find someone who makes the stuff an’ study under them?” he suggested. “I’m sure there has t’ be at least _one_ clothmaker in Tianshui.”

“Even if there is, I don’t know if my mother would allow it,” she sighed, a wistful look on her face. “She can be far more lenient than my father, yes, but studying under someone so far below my rank?”

Yao shrugged. “It wouldn’t hurt t’ ask, though, would it? She knows you’re passionate ‘bout makin’ clothes, so she may just allow it. Anyway, wouldn’t it be helpful t’ know how the cloth ya use is made? It’d give ya a better—a better feel for the stuff or something.” He offered her an assuring smile.

Mei felt her cheeks grow a bit warm; he had a handsome smile. “Y-you’re right,” she said, looking back at the cloth, “I _should_ try asking her.”

Yao felt his own cheeks grow a bit warm as he noticed her blush. Was she blushing because of what he said? Or was it for a different reason…? He hoped it was the latter—the last thing he wanted was to accidentally embarrass her.

“I think I’ll get this one,” Mei said after some minutes of deliberation. She was holding the intricately woven fabric she had been ogling earlier. “I can already picture the dress I could make with this.”

“I’m sure it’ll look gorgeous on ya,” Yao told her, not even realizing what he was saying until it left his mouth.

Mei’s cheeks grew dark and she giggled; it sounded more amused than shy this time. “Thank you,” she giggled, “but it wouldn’t be for me. It’d be for one of my sisters.”

“O-Oh, well—well, I’m sure it’d look just as nice on them, too!” he quickly said, his cheeks as dark as beets. “Wh-which sister?”

She shrugged, starting to head to the cloth vendor in order to pay for the fabric. “I’m not sure yet. Su may be a bit too short for the style I’m thinking of, but she looks lovely in yellow. Ting-Ting suits cooler colors, but she definitely has the height. And Z—”

“Ah, a wonderful choice, miss!” the vendor interrupted, taking the roll of fabric to check its price.

Yao’s head tilted ever so slightly, curious as to who Mei had been about to mention. Maybe one of her half siblings…? No, it couldn’t have been. Neither she nor her sisters had mentioned any of their names during the entire trip, so they couldn’t have been close. But she had most _definitely_ said she wanted to make the dress for one of her _sisters_ …

Did they have a fourth sister who had already been married off?

“Expensive,” the vendor continued, “but I assure you, it’s certainly worth the price. How much of this would you like?”

“The whole roll, please,” Mei chirped.

The vendor blinked, taken aback. “P-Pardon?”

“The whole roll.” She started fishing around in her sleeve before pulling out a coin purse. “It’s so difficult finding fabric of such wonderful quality; I simply _must_ have it all in case I don’t get to pass through for some time!”

At that, the vendor chuckled. “You have a point,” she smiled. “And this fabric tends to sell out rather fast. The poor woman who makes it is constantly working because of how popular it is!”

“Constant work means constant income at least,” Yao chimed in. “An’ it’s obvious she enjoys what she does—otherwise, she wouldn’t be doin’ such intricate weaves, right?”

The vendor smiled. “Very true!” she agreed, wrapping the roll in a length of burlap. She then wrapped a cord around the length of it. “There. This should keep it from getting dirty during your travels,” she said, taking the coins Mei handed to her.

“Thank you _very_ much,” Mei smiled, grabbing the roll. “Have a lovely day!”

“You, too, miss!”

Starting to walk off, Yao glanced up at Mei. “Would ya like me t’ carry that for ya?” he offered, seeing her struggling slightly to carry the long roll.

“Oh, I couldn’t ask that of you; I bought it, after all!”

His brow rose as he gave her a teasing smile. “Ya _didn’t_ ask,” he told her, taking the roll from her arms. “I _offered_.”

 

“A young scholar with a sense of humor was forced to sell his schooling supplies when he ran out of money. A few weeks later, his father received a letter from him stating, ‘Be proud of me, father, for I am already making money from my studies’.” Ting-Ting wore a wide grin as she glanced over at Ling.

Ling laughed. “That one is a _classic_ ,” he chuckled. His hands were clasped behind his head as he walked alongside Ting-Ting. “But it’ll always be one of my favorites, since you can tell it to any kind of person.” He glanced around the area, making sure no one of an unsavory nature was around.

Ting-Ting’s cheeks turned a bit pink and she smiled guiltily. “I’m afraid that’s the last of the inoffensive jokes I know,” she admitted. “The pal—” She stopped herself for a second, knowing she shouldn’t mention the Imperial palace. “ _My home_ isn’t the best place to learn new jokes. Most of them tend to be either bawdy or mildly violent.”

“Really?” he asked, brow rising in surprise. “I wouldn’t have guessed them to tell jokes, let alone crude ones.”

She let out a small laugh. “Oh, you have _no_ idea how crude they can get! I’m sure you’ve heard worse, though, being that you _are_ a soldier.” She politely declined a hawker who attempted to tempt her with some pieces of jewelry.

It was Ling’s turn to wear the guilty smile. “Probably,” he admitted. “Some of them were even too vulgar for _me_ to tell—and trust me, I know some _obscene_ jokes. Oh, but there was _one_ I heard that wasn’t too bad.”

“Oh?” Spotting a vendor selling some fruit, she started to head that way.”

Following after her, he nodded. “A man who had been traveling finally got to return home and decided to consult an untrained astrologer about his family. ‘How are they?’ he asked. ‘They’re all fine,’ replied the astrologer, ‘ _especially_ your father.’ This surprised the man. ‘But he’s been dead for ten years!’ he exclaims. The astrologer gives a shrug and replies with, ‘Clearly, you don’t know who your father is!’”

Ting-Ting covered her mouth and nose as she started to giggle-snort. “I’ll have to remember that one to tell Su,” she giggled. “She _despises_ astrology.”

“Despises it?” He cocked his head slightly. “Why’s that?”

“A few years ago, at the behest of our father, the three of us each had a reading done,” she explained, looking over the various fruits. There were pomelos, kumquats, mangosteen, starfruit and many others. She was surprised such a small city had such a diverse selection. “Her reading…wasn’t much to her liking, to put it mildly.”

Picking up a dragon fruit, he looked it over, checking for any bruising or signs of over-ripening. “Do you know what she was told?” Finding the fruit to be in good condition, he fished a few coins from a pouch on his belt.

“No. She never told us.” After inspecting some mangosteen, she bought three of them. She and Ling left the stall, heading off to find a quieter place to eat their fruit. “She refuses to speak about it and has refused father’s attempts to get her to do another reading.”

“That’s strange. I mean, from what I’ve seen of her, she’s quite the cheery optimist.”

Ting-Ting nodded in agreement. “Normally, she is…but whatever that astrologer told her had her upset for _days_.” Shaking her head, she let out a quiet sigh.

“At least she’s back to normal now, though, right?” He offered her a small smile. “I don’t think I’ve seen her mad _once_ during the last couple of weeks.”

She chuckled and nodded once more. “Very true!”

Wading their way through the crowd, they found a somewhat-quiet corner of the market to eat their fruit in. Before cutting into his dragon fruit, Ling used his small knife to cut open Ting-Ting’s mangosteen for her as its flesh was too thick for her to peel or use her nails to remove. Once he had cut into his own fruit, he started to use his knife to scoop pieces of its insides out.

“Earlier, you said you knew some mildly violent jokes,” he asked after a few minutes. “How did you come to learn those ones?” As he glanced over at her, he saw her cheeks turn pink.

“The usual people,” she said, plucking out a bit of mangosteen. “The guards and some of the officials when they’ve had too much wine. They did their best to keep themselves from getting _too_ vulgar, of course.”

“Understandable. It’d be poor decorum otherwise,” he chuckled. Leaning back against the wall of a building, he surveyed the area once more. His brows rose slightly as he spotted Chien-Po and Su browsing the food vendors; Chien-Po, he saw, was carrying an enormous wok filled with fresh fruit and vegetables. “Looks like Su and Chien-Po are buying out the whole market…” he murmured.

Ting-Ting looked at him curiously. “Hm?” When Ling pointed the two out, she let out a small laugh. “Oh, gods—mother is going to _kill_ her,” she giggled. “She told Su she isn’t allowed to buy any cooking utensils until we get to Tianshui!”

“Maybe Chien-Po bought it?” he suggested, smiling.

“Oh, no. That is most definitely Su’s purchase.” There was an odd shape she kept seeing in the corner of her vision. Turning her head, she found out what the shape really was: Yao carrying two rolls of fabric with Mei walking alongside him, a basket tucked into the crook of her arm. “Looks like Mei made a few purchases as well,” she commented. She nodded in their direction.

Ling snorted. “Those rolls are longer than Yao is tall!” he laughed. “I’m surprised he hasn’t knocked anyone over with them!” He offered Ting-Ting a piece of dragon fruit.

Accepting it, she offered him a chunk of mangosteen. “Judging by the quality of those fabrics, he’s fearing the wrath he’d bring about if he let any harm come to them,” she smiled.

“Maybe,” he chuckled. Popping the mangosteen into his mouth, he chewed it slowly; mangosteen were one of his favorite fruits, but they could be expensive when they had to be imported.

“…I’m just glad to see my sisters so happy again.” She took a nibble of the dragon fruit; she had never had it before. “It’s been a long while since I’ve seen them smile _this_ much.”

Frowning, he looked over at her. “Really? Why’s that?”

Sighing, she turned her gaze down to her hands. “Many things are to blame, to be honest,” she admitted. “The unease with Mongolia, lingering unrest with the Huns, thoughts of potentially being married off…” She shook her head. “To top it all off, mother and father have had fights because of the stress.”

“I can see why that would bring you three down,” he said, frowning. “But…At least some of that stress is gone now?” Glancing around as he chewed some fruit, his brows furrowed somewhat when he spotted Zhi and Senka entering the market. Zhi had a hold of Senka’s hand as she led them around to the various vendors.

“That is true,” Ting-Ting chuckled. “Though, I don’t think we’d feel _half_ as carefree if we had different escorts. Shang can be strict at times, but he’s begun to loosen up… _somewhat_. And Mulan is so lovely! She’s far sweeter and funnier than we imagined.”

“Yeah, she’s a real sweetheart,” he smiled, continuing to watch Zhi and Senka. “Her parents are the same. And her mother is a _fabulous_ cook. I think she and Su will get along swimmingly.”

His smile faltered and he paused in his chewing; Zhi had plucked Senka’s helmet from their head, a teasing smile on her lips. Though Senka’s back was turned to him, his heart still skipped a beat in shock. Zhi stood on her tiptoes and Ling suddenly gasped, inhaling the bit of fruit in his mouth and choking himself.

Did he just watch Zhi _kiss_ Senka…? No; surely it had to have been his imagination playing tricks on him.

Ting-Ting’s eyes widened and, not really knowing what to do, started to thump him on the back. After a few seconds that felt like a few years, Ling was able to cough the piece of fruit back up.

“Are you alright?” she questioned, worry on her face.

“F-Fine,” he wheezed. His beet red face was slowly beginning to return to its usual color. “I’m fine. Just—just swallowed wrong.” Straightening up, he gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, I promise.”

“Good,” she said, though her face retained the concerned expression, “because the _last_ thing I want to do is have to tell jokes to a dead man.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, he laughed. “Of _corpse_ , you could just say you had a _killer_ sense of humor. Or you could just tell everyone I’m just _decomposing_ some jokes so I can _bury_ my competition.” When Ting-Ting covered her mouth and started to giggle-snort, he grinned broadly and practically forgot about what he had just witnessed. “Just make sure to wait until evening, because I’m not really a _mourning_ person.”

 

“And with this…I win again!” Mulan cheekily smiled at Shang as she removed his checker from the board.

Shang frowned slightly as he leaned back, trying to see how she was able to make the move. He then closed his eyes and shook his head. “How are you able to hide such obvious moves so well?” he asked with a small laugh.

She started to gather up the game pieces. “If I told you, then I’d be giving away my secrets,” she teased. “Best four of five?”

He shook his head. “I think losing three games in a row is enough,” he answered. Taking the board—which was actually a cloth woven into the checked pattern of a normal checker board—he folded it up and slid it into its bag. “Anyway, it’s getting late. Once the girls and lieutenants come back, we need to start making camp.”

“You’ve decided to let us stay the night here, then?” Mulan asked, her brow rising in amusement.

He nodded. “I suppose I have…As much as I _don’t_ want to admit it, we do need a _small_ break from traveling. And while we weren’t able to get any rooms at the inns, at least we’re still next to a town so we don’t have to cook.” Leaning back, he let out a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck.

There was a knowing smile on Mulan’s lips. “You also want to see the fireworks, don’t you?” she lightly teased. Taking the bag from him, she stood up and started head towards the wagon to return it to its box.

“Maybe.” He watched her; a tender smile unconsciously crept its way across his lips. It was nice to have _just_ her to talk to again—even if it was only for a couple of hours. “But that’s _if_ they’ll have fireworks.”

“I’m sure they’ll have fireworks,” Mulan smiled. Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she returned to her seat. “What sort of festival would it be without them?”

“A boring one,” he chuckled. Looking over at her, he watched as she leaned back with her eyes shut and a content smile on her lips. “…Do you like them?” he asked after a moment. “The girls, I mean.”

For a few minutes, Mulan was silent. Shang was beginning to wonder if she had fallen asleep when she finally spoke. “They’re wonderful,” she told him. “They’re intelligent, they’re quick-witted, they’re friendly, and…they don’t find me odd.”

He frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

Opening her eyes, she looked over at him; there was some hurt in her eyes. “You know full well what I mean.” Sighing, she closed her eyes once again. “I don’t fit in with other women. I can’t—I can’t relate to them. Growing up, a lot of the girls were looking forward to the day they received their matches from the matchmaker or were trying to find ways to impress the boys our age.”

“And I’m guessing your mind was elsewhere?”

She smiled guiltily. “ _I_ was trying to come up with ways to get my chores done in a more efficient manner or how I could better help my father…”

“Help him? How so? I know he has that leg injury, but whenever I’ve met him, he seems quite able.”

“Most times, he is,” she admitted, “but there can be days when his leg just—just locks up and the muscles spasm horribly. On those days, he can hardly move, let alone tend to his chores. It’s worst during the winter, because even when his leg _isn’t_ locked up, the whole limb aches horribly.”

Shang nodded in understanding, a frown on his lips. He knew Fa Zhou had a limp from his injury, but he hadn’t realized just how bad the injury truly was. “That sounds quite painful…”

“It can be.” She tucked some hair behind her ear again, a small smile on her lips. “But that’s why I do my best to help him. Most times, I assist him, but there have been times when I’m the only one able to do the task. More than once, I’ve had to climb onto the roof to fix a broken tile or to chop firewood.”

“I’m guessing his pride doesn’t let him ask for help from neighbors?”

She chuckled. “Not so much his pride, but _my_ stubbornness,” she admitted. “I’ve always insisted that I could be the one to help him and…he’s always let me, even if my mother didn’t like it. I would be learning useful skills, he had told her, should my future husband have to go to war and there were no men around to help.”

“A good point.”

Mulan pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “Little did any of us know, just a few years later, I’d know so much more than how to fix a roof or how to swing an ax.” She chuckled. “Now I know how to use a bow, how to fire a cannon, and even how to take down an attacker…”

“You’d put most men to shame, that’s for certain,” he smiled.

She glanced over at him, her cheeks a bit pink. “I wouldn’t know _any_ of it if it hadn’t been for you, though.”

Shang felt his own cheeks grow warm. “You were a good student. Yes, you stumbled at first and I had low hopes for you, but…you proved me wrong. And I’m glad you did.”

Mulan opened her mouth to speak, but before she could even start talking, she was interrupted.

“Shang, Mulan! Look at this _stunning_ fabric I was able to find!” Mei was practically bouncing as she walked alongside Yao. He now carried not just the rolls of fabric, but also a basket filled with various rolls of ribbon and threads. Lifting one of the rolls from his arms, she hurried over to Shang and Mulan to show them. “Isn’t it gorgeous?” She pulled back the burlap to show them the tiny, embroidered butterflies.

“It _is_!” Mulan gaped, her eyes widening.

Shang, on the other hand, lightly shook his head and chuckled. “Are you alright under all that weight, Yao?” he asked.

“Perfectly fine!” Yao answered, tilting his head slightly so he could see past the fabric. “This ain’t too heavy—especially compared t’ the load Chien-Po’s got!”

He frowned. “What do you—” He paused as he saw Chien-Po and Su coming towards the camp. Chien-Po held an _enormous_ wok that was nearly overflowing with fruits, vegetables, and cured meats. “Ancestors help me…” he mumbled.

“We’ve got dinner!” Su chirped. Unlike Mei, she _was_ bouncing. “And look at this amazing wok! Can you imagine all the meals I can make in this thing?!” She giggled and happily clapped her hands together.

Mulan and Mei gawked at it. “ _That’s_ a _wok_?” Mei gasped. “Su, that thing is a _bathing tub_!”

Chien-Po smiled. “Its large size will make for more surface area for cooking breads and searing meats,” he replied. “And it would also make for a wonderful shield.”

“I can hide under it like a turtle!” Su giggled. “I already tried and I fit under it _perfectly_!”

Letting out a heavy sigh, Shang rested his forehead in his palm. “Su…we don’t have room for the wok, the food, _and_ the things Mei bought…”

She pouted. “Well, I’ll _make_ it all fit,” she countered.

Mulan laughed. “I’m sure you will, though I suggest you get some help from Yao. He’s quite good when it comes to organizing things and making sure everything has a place.”

“Is he?” Mei and Su chorused. They both looked at Yao in surprise only to find him hiding his beet-red face behind the other two rolls of fabric.

“I would have never guessed,” Mei smiled. “That’s a good skill to have. Su and I…aren’t really the most organized at times.”

“That’s putting it nicely.” Mei turned, seeing Ling and Ting-Ting walking towards them. “You two can be as disorganized as a frightened colony of rabbits!”

Shang was more than a little relieved to see that Ting-Ting hadn’t bought anything. At least, it didn’t _look_ like she had bought anything.

“At least I keep my spices and knives organized,” Su argued, blowing a raspberry at her sister.

Mei chuckled. “Only because you got frustrated with always grabbing the wrong thing when you were too focused to look.”

Cheeks reddening, Su crossed her arms. “ _No_ ,” she protested. “It’s because the chefs were always putting things back in the wrong places! I got fed up with being unable to find anything, so I had to make a box of my own knives and spices.”

“That _does_ sound terribly frustrating,” Chien-Po frowned. “Thankfully, Ling and Yao don’t really mess with my cooking things…”

Ling snorted. “Yao can’t reach them half the time and I know better,” he said. “The one time I _did_ try to mess with your stuff, your left a welt on the back of my hand that stayed for a week!”

Chien-Po looked embarrassed as he raised his hand to his mouth. “A _week_?! You told me it only stayed for a few days!”

“Alright, alright,” Shang said, standing up. “Yao, you had best get started with reorganizing the wagon. Go ahead and leave the tents and bedrolls out, though. We’ll camp here for a couple of nights.” He then looked over at the princesses, his face stern. “And you three aren’t allowed to buy anything bigger than your palm, understand?”

The sisters smiled innocently. “Yes, Shang,” they chorused.

Ting-Ting started to follow Yao. “I’ll help Yao. I enjoy organizing things and, with how much stuff there is, he’ll need the help.”

“And I suppose I should help, too,” Mei smiled. “After all, I’m part of the problem.”

“It’s much appreciated,” Yao said, voice slightly muffled by the cloth.

“We’ll get started on dinner!” Su chirped, grabbing Chien-Po’s arm. She started to lead him off towards an area suitable for building a fire.

Mulan smiled. “We can get started on setting up the tents,” she told Shang and Ling.

Ling rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, actually, guys? Can I…ask you something kind of…” He glanced around, making sure the others were engrossed in their work. “Something kind of weird?” There was a bit of uncertainty to his voice.

Shang’s brow rose. “Of course,” he replied. He was a bit worried; Ling wasn’t usually nervous like this.

“Can we go somewhere a little more private?” he asked, voice quiet. “I don’t want the others to hear it.”

Mulan frowned slightly, but nodded. The three of them went to stand on the opposite side of the royal carriage—both out of sight and earshot of the others. “What is it you wanted to ask, Ling?” she questioned.

He rubbed the back of his neck again. “Well, um…I was talking with Ting-Ting earlier and she mentioned that Zhi and the Emperor had—had, well, started fighting lately,” he began, “and…I saw something that made me start wondering something about Zhi.”

Shang frowned. “What did you see?” he demanded.

Ling swallowed hard. “I don’t think Ting-Ting saw it, but while she was talkin’, I saw Zhi and Senka across the way. And I think I saw Zhi _kiss_ Senka.” He almost flinched as Mulan gasped. “So…I guess what I’m trying to ask is this: Is Zhi having some sort of affair with Senka? I mean, I know it’s none of my business, but—”

“No,” Shang said, his voice strangely relieved. In fact, he almost started laughing. “Oh gods, _no_! Zhi would _never_ have an affair. She’s entirely devoted to the Emperor.”

Ling frowned. “But I saw her—”

“She wasn’t kissing Senka,” Shang assured him. “At least, not in the way _you’re_ thinking. Did she take Senka’s helmet off?”

“Yes,” he answered, still frowning.

Mulan’s eyes widened. “Did you see their face?” she interjected. “What did they look like!?”

“They had their back to me,” Ling admitted.

Shang shook his head, chuckling as he set his hand on Ling’s shoulder. “Zhi kissed Senka’s forehead, I assure you,” he assured him. “She does that when she’s grateful for something. Haven’t you seen her kiss my forehead at times?”

Ling shook his head. “No, not really…” he murmured, cheeks growing bright red in embarrassment. “Truthfully, I haven’t…paid _her_ much attention.”

Mulan wore a knowing smile. “I’ve noticed, though,” she said. “She’s kissed my forehead a time or two, as well.”

“Don’t be embarrassed about this, either,” Shang told him. “It’s an easy mistake to make, especially when you don’t know what’s going on.”

“But I’m glad you came and asked _us_ before making any wild accusations,” Mulan added.

A small, though still bashful, smile came to Ling’s lips. “Yeah, the last thing we need is another false claim like the one Yao made…”

Shang and Mulan looked at him in confusion. “What? What false claim did Yao make?”

Ling chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Oh, a week or so ago, Yao told me and Chien-Po that he got a look under Senka’s helmet and saw their face,” he explained. “He tried telling us that Senka was actually an undead Zhu or something.”

Mulan shook her head. “That’s beyond impossible.”

“That’s what we told him,” he agreed. “But he’s pretty damn sure that Senka is actually Zhu.”

“It explains why he’s been avoiding Senka,” Shang murmured, a contemplative expression on his face.

Ling shrugged. “I just think Senka’s some sort of living statue,” he half-joked. “A hollowed out one, so they don’t break their horse’s back, but still a statue. I mean, how else can they be so emotionless?”

Mulan chuckled. “Maybe they’re just very good at hiding their true personality?” she suggested. “For all we know, they could be as much of a jokester as you and Ting-Ting or have a temper like Yao.”

Blowing a raspberry, he dismissively waved his hand. “ _No way_ ,” he argued. “They’re definitely some sort of statue. It also explains why they stay all covered up—so we don’t see what they’re carved from!”

Rolling her eyes, Mulan laughed. “Alright then, if you insist,” she teased. “I’m fairly certainly they’re human, just like you and me.”

“That’s just want they _want_ us to think. But when we’re least expecting it, they’ll lose an arm or something and not notice until someone starts freaking out!”

“That’s as likely as one of the statues in the Fa family shrine coming to life,” Shang retorted dryly.

“Which would _never_ happen,” Mulan said, subtly crossing her fingers behind her back.


	9. Chapter 9

The fireworks, though not nearly as grand as the ones in the Imperial City, were mesmerizing. Like the ones in the Imperial City, however, they lasted long into the night, making it difficult for the group to get to sleep at a decent hour. As a result, they ended up sleeping in for far longer than they had intended and they still felt exhausted.

Taking pity on them, Shang said they could stay another night— _maybe_ two if there were to be more fireworks that night. His only stipulation was that no more ‘souvenirs’ were to be bought _unless_ they could be eaten.

“And what if I find a piece of jewelry I like?” Mulan lightly teased as she combed her hair. “Will I have to eat it in order to buy it?”

Looking up from the wash basin, he cocked his brow at her. “Very funny,” he said before splashing the cold water onto his face. He let out a quiet hiss at the sudden coolness. “You know full well what I mean.”

“Your orders were to not buy anything inedible,” she continued to tease. “Though, I suppose I could ask Ting-Ting to carve me some rings from a pear or ask Mei to weave me a bracelet from noodles.” She laughed as Shang flicked some water onto her face.

“I think you’ve been hanging around Ling too much.” Standing upright, Shang grabbed a towel and patted his face dry. He then paused, a contemplative expression coming to his face. “Or, perhaps, it’s the other way around? Sometimes, it’s quite hard to tell.”

Mulan laughed, setting aside her comb in favor of a hair stick. “Or maybe you’ve just woken up on the wrong side of the bedroll this morning?” she suggested. Twisting her hair, she curled it around into a bun, using the stick to hold it in place.

His brow rising again, he grinned at her. “Are you sure you’re not talking about Su?” he chuckled.

Covering her mouth as she laughed, Mulan remembered how utterly exhausted and disheveled the youngest princess had looked as she begrudgingly left the tent for breakfast. “That’s true,” she smiled. “Poor thing looked like she hadn’t slept in a week.”

“To be fair, she _did_ stay awake the longest.” Grabbing the wash basin, he tossed its contents across the grass. “ _And_ she slept in the longest.”

“That she—”

“Shang!” Both of them turned around only to find Senka riding towards them; they had one hand on their helmet why the other adjusted their mask. Mulan wondered if they had only just put both on. “Shang, we cannot stay here any longer. We must leave _immediately_.”

He frowned as he looked up at them. “Why? What did you find?”

“Not what— _who_.” They glanced over their shoulder at the rest of the camp. “A group of bandits is heading this way.”

Mulan tilted her head, an uncertain look on her face. “…Bandits? That’s all?” She felt a shiver run down her spine as Senka looked directly at her.

“There are Mongolian scouts among them.”

Her eyes shot open in shock. “Wh-what?! But—but—surely it’s just a consequence?”

“With luck, it is,” Shang said. “Senka, how far are they from us? And how many do they number?”

“They number at _least_ thirty and they’re less than five miles from the city’s eastern gate. We don’t have long.”

He nodded in understanding. “We need to rouse the others. Mulan, get the lieutenants. Senka, the girls. We need to be out of here in less than an hour.”

Organized chaos descended upon the camp. As soon as they were told what was happening, the lieutenants immediately began disassembling the tents. The princesses hurriedly gathered up the dishes and cooking pots and shoved them away in the wagon; there was no time to clean them.

Once everything was packed up, Zhi and the princesses were ushered into the carriage and the group left the area. As usual, Senka was sent ahead to scout while Shang stayed at the head of the group. He sent Ling to the back and Mulan was to keep watch in the middle while Chien-Po and Yao drove the wagon and carriage. They did their best to keep an air of casualness about them; the last thing they needed was to seem suspicious to anyone passing by.

Should any trouble arise, however, they kept their hands near to their weapons.

 

Slowly, the hours crept by.

Two miles out, they found themselves in the forest once more. Again surrounded by trees and bracken, the group was left feeling even more on edge. This was the perfect terrain for an ambush; every little noise made them flinch in anticipation.

When Senka returned, it had taken all of Shang’s willpower to not draw his bow on them. But their return brought some relief: They had found no signs of bandits on the road ahead.

Despite this, they knew that they couldn’t relax. There were still bandits behind them and, without the burden of a heavy wagon and carriage, they would easily be able to close the gap between the two groups.

 

Night fell. Still in the forest, Shang led them some yards away from the road to make camp for the night. Chien-Po and Yao gathered up bits of leaf litter and foliage to use as camouflage for the wagon and carriage. No fire was to be built and no tents were to be erected; they would have to eat dried provisions for their meal that night and sleep on the open ground. Zhi and her daughters would remain in the carriage.

“We’ll take turns standing watch,” Shang told the others, his voice quiet. “We’ll go in two-hour increments.” Just enough moonlight filtered down from the canopy above to let them see the sternness of his voice matched the expression on his face.

“It would be best to also have a patrol route around the area,” Senka added, “or, at the very least, the carriage and wagon.”

“I’ll take first watch,” Chien-Po offered. “The rest of you need a bit of rest—especially you, Shang and Senka.”

Yao nodded in agreement. “I’ll take second.”

“Third and fourth,” Senka spoke, cutting both Mulan Shang off before they could speak.

“No,” Shang told them. “You did a lot of scouting today. You need some rest.”

“I assure you, I’ll be fine,” they replied, voice as even as ever. Mulan watched as their head tilted ever so slightly to the side and their fingers twitch.

Frowning, Shang met their gaze. “Senka, I order you to—”

In an instant, Senka tackled him to the ground. There was a thud as an arrow sank into the wheel of the wagon.

“Ambush!” Mulan cried out. “Get your weapons!”

As shouting arose from their attackers, the animals began to panic. Their roars and squeals echoed through the forest. In the dim light, they could see at least twenty men rushing towards them. How many more were hidden in the shadows, they didn’t want to know.

“I thought ya said all was safe, Senka!?” Yao cried, drawing his sword.

“It _was_ ,” they snapped, “when I scouted the area _an hour_ ago!” Pulling a fistful of arrows from their quiver, they began rapid firing them. Mulan could hear grunts and howls of pain coming from the distance as their arrows hit their mark.

She didn’t have long to think about them, however. Within minutes, the bandits had descended upon them. The air was filled with shouts and the metallic clanging of swords. Arrows came falling through the trees like rain; thankfully, the archers’ aim wasn’t terribly accurate.

Pain soon filled her left arm as someone managed to hit her. With no time to check the wound, she spun herself around and thrust her sword forward into the gut of a bandit. He screamed in pain and clutched at the wound as she yanked the sword from his body. As he collapsed to the ground, howling and writhing in the throes of death, Mulan froze.

For the first time, she witnessed death up close—a death _she_ caused.

“Mulan, keep fighting!” Shang gripped her shoulder, giving her a quick, rough shake. “You can’t freeze up now!”

Stiffly nodding, she forced herself to look away from the dying bandit. She wanted to throw up, but she was able to keep the bile down as she charged forward. Another bandit attacked her; he was lying in a pool of his own blood within a minute.

‘Keep fighting,’ she told herself. ‘Keep fighting. That’s all you can do.’

Time seemed to come to a halt. She found herself facing off against bandit after bandit. How many of them were there? Her limbs were growing heavy. She could remember breaking off the shaft of an arrow at some point. After receiving a punch to the face, she could taste blood.

The oxen were letting out terrified roars and struggled against the ropes tying them to the trees. Jiang, Khan, and Senka’s mare made angry sounds as they kicked and bit at any bandits that dared get near them. Zhi’s horse, though, was able to break free of its ties and ran off into the night.

The thugs were yelling orders to each other, but the language they spoke was foreign to her ears. One phrase they shouted, however, stood out to her: Khatan khai. She wondered what it meant—but only for a few seconds as her attention was quickly drawn elsewhere.

Above the din, she heard Su scream.

Without thinking, she ran towards the carriage. As she drew near, she saw that a small group of the bandits had managed to break open the door. Two of them gripped Su’s arms as they tried to pull her out, but Ting-Ting held around the waist. Somehow, she, alone, was able to hold back her sister.

Before Mulan could reach them, a third bandit grew irritated and, climbing onto the steps, thrust his hand forward. Ting-Ting cried out in pain and stumbled backwards. One hand clutched her face while the other futilely grasped for her sister.

Two more bandits rushed forward, intending to start pulling out the other princesses. But they never made it.

A shadow leapt from seemingly nowhere—Senka. Grabbing one of the men, they slammed their forehead into his face; he crumpled to the ground. They snatched a second man by the neck of his shirt. All too easily, they lifted him from the ground and threw him many yards away.

Drawing a short sword, they thrust the blade into the side of one of the bandits holding Su. The other bandit let go and lunged for Senka only to be met in the face by their elbow.

Freed from her captors, Su ran back to the carriage. She, her sisters, and her mother watched as Mulan and Senka fought back the outlaws. Most of the men were soon laying on the ground, dying slowly and painfully. Some were able to scramble away—whether they would live or die from their injuries, they didn’t know.

They didn’t _want_ to know.

“Khatan khaanyg olokh! Khatan khaanyg olokh!” the bandits continued to shout.

Senka suddenly stormed to the center of the fray and started shouting back. They yelled in the same language; the words they yelled sounded harsh and ugly. But they had an effect on the bandits: They suddenly stopped fighting. They shouted out again, thumping themselves on the chest in a challenging fashion.

“NO!” Zhi suddenly screamed. “No! Don’t you dare!” Ting-Ting and Mei had to grab hold of her to keep her from flinging herself out of the carriage and running to Senka.

And then Senka started to run.

Those bandits who could still stand ran after them, not caring about their fallen brethren.

Mulan cried out as something large shoved past her, knocking her to the ground. Looking up, she could see the backside of Senka’s mare shrinking as she raced after her rider. She wondered how the mare was able to get free of her ropes— _had_ she even been tied up? She couldn’t remember.

“Mulan!” Shang ran over to her, panic on his face.

“I’m fine,” she winced. “But we other things to worry about. We need to go after—”

“After Senka? No.” He shook his head as he helped her to slow stand up. “No, they know what they’re doing.”

She frowned. “There are at least ten bandits chasing after them! We _need_ to go after them!”

“We’d be of no help, Mulan,” he told her, voice stern. “Look at us. We’re in no shape to keep fighting.”

It was then she noticed that Shang was holding his left arm tightly against his chest. There were many large, bloodied tears in his clothing and there was blood flowing freely from his nose. Behind him, she could see that Yao, Ling, and Chien-Po were in just as bad of shape, if not worse. And the longer she stood there, the more it became apparent that she had her fair share of injuries as well.

“But…” Knowing she had no argument, she looked away from him, defeated.

“It was Senka’s job to protect Zhi and the princesses,” he quietly reminded her. “By drawing the rest of the bandits away, they’ve done just that.” Shaking his head, he turned away from her. “We need to patch ourselves up and get out of here. There is a chance some of the bandits could come back.”

The princesses gawked at him. “But we can’t leave!” Mei cried. “We have to wait for-”

“Mei, you know as well as I that Senka’s return is…is very slim,” Shang told her, his voice gentle, yet firm. “You saw how many bandits there were still left.”

“So?! She’s survived worse!” Su argued. “She’ll be back—I _know_ she will! She promised to protect us!”

Mulan blinked, taken aback. So Senka was a _woman_ …?

Ting-Ting reached out, setting her hand on Su’s shoulder. Her other arm she kept wrapped around her mother, who was sobbing. “Su, Shang’s right,” she quietly told her. “We _can’t_ stay here. If she _does_ live, she’ll know how to find us.” She then looked at Mei. “Get a lantern lit. Su, get the bandages and some water.” Pulling back from Zhi, she looked her mother in the eye. “Mother, now isn’t the time to cry. The others are hurt and need our help.”

Her jaw wobbling, Zhi managed to swallow her sobs and nod. “Yes,” she said, using her sleeve to wipe her eyes. “Yes, you’re right. They need our help.”

 

Nearly two hours were spent cleaning, stitching, and bandaging everyone’s wounds. Mulan found herself in awe of Zhi and her daughters once more: Not once did any of them shy away from tending to an injury, no matter how awful it looked.

In fact, it was Mulan herself who became sick; Chien-Po had a large gouge in the side of his arm, leaving bits of muscle and even bone exposed. Su, however, remained stone-faced and steel-stomached as she applied a medicinal liquid before holding the flesh together for Mei to sew back up.

In the end, it turned out that no one had received any life-threatening injuries. Though his arm was left badly sprained, Yao had gotten hurt the least; none of the blood he wore was his own and he only had a bruised jaw. Chien-Po was slightly worse off, with the gouge in his arm and a couple of slices to his legs as well as a missing tooth. Mulan, Ling, and Shang were about even in terms of their injuries: Ling had a dislocated shoulder, stitches in four different places, and a black eye; Shang had stitches in six places, a broken nose, a sprained elbow, and an arrow wound to his leg; Mulan had two arrow wounds, stitches in four places, and a twisted ankle.

They were starting to hitch the oxen to the carriage and wagon when they heard galloping drawing near. Instinct made them reach for their weapons and they held their breath in anticipation. But none of the bandits had had horses, had they?

Soon enough, the horse and rider came into view. “It’s Senka!” Yao called out. “They’re back!”

Zhi let out a cry of joy, making Mulan jump in surprise. The empress and her daughters raced forward, bathing Senka and the mare in lantern light. Hesitantly, Mulan limped forward as well; she wanted to make sure Senka was unhurt and apologize for not chasing after her.

But as she drew nearer, she frowned. Senka, an excellent rider, was swaying horribly in the saddle. Her mare let out a nervous snort; she seemed to be shifting her weight from side to side in order to keep her rider from falling. But her efforts were in vain. As she came to a total halt, Senka started to slip sideways.

Zhi rushed forward, catching her before she could hit the ground. She ordered Mei to bring the lantern closer and pulled off Senka’s helmet; Her mask had been ripped, revealing her entire face. As Zhi continued to give her daughters orders, Mulan’s eyes shot wide open and she covered her mouth with both hands.

It wasn’t Senka in Zhi’s arms.

It was Zhu.


	10. Chapter 10

_“Do you know why I summoned you?”_

_“No, your majesty, I do not.”_

_“Do not lie to me, Shan Zhu.”_

_She dared to lift her head, meeting the Emperor’s gaze. He stared down at her with contempt and hatred—a look that she alone had the ‘pleasure’ of receiving. “You have orders for me,” she replied, voice quiet. “Who am I to dispose of?”_

_“I am not sending you to rid me of an enemy.” He shifted his weight somewhat and steepled his fingers before his face. Unusually, they were in the Emperor’s private chambers; her orders were normally given to her in the throne room or by letter. “Though it has been tempting to send you to Mongolia. No. The orders I have for you are far more important than a mere assassination.”_

_Her brows furrowed; there was nothing ‘mere’ about the assassinations he had had her carry out over the last three years._

_“As you know, the Mongolian princes have been eying China ever since they learned of the late General Li’s defeat,” he began. “They may speak of peace, but their actions thus far speak otherwise. Should war come to China once again, I do not want my wife and daughters anywhere near the epicenter.”_

_“And so, you’re sending them into hiding in hopes of keeping them from harm,” Zhu finished for him. She looked up at the Emperor once more and wondered, as she had so many times before, how anyone could say he had a kind face._

_But then again, he had never been kind to her._

_“Everything has already been arranged. They will be traveling to Tianshui, a small farming village many, many miles from here.”_

_She frowned. Tianshui. She had heard that name before, but where?_

_“You are to guard my wife and my daughters with your life.” The weight with which he spoke those words sent a shudder down her spine. “Do you understand, Shan Zhu? Your_ life _.”_

_“Even if you hadn’t ordered it of me, I would gladly give my life to see them safe,” she replied, voice quiet._

_He was silent for a moment as he stared down at her; his brow was raised in skepticism. She knew he didn’t trust her—he never would. Not that she could entirely blame him. “I have sent General Shang to fetch four of China’s greatest warriors,” he finally continued. “Should they agree to the task, they will also be escorting my family as well as guarding them throughout their stay in Tianshui.”_

_“You speak of Mulan and—”_

_“_ Fa _Mulan,” he said, tone scolding. “And yes, I am speaking of Fa Mulan and the trio of recently-promoted lieutenants. And they are not to know who you are.”_

_She looked up at him, eyes wide in shock. “Wh-what? But, your majesty, they’re my friends—”_

_“—Your friends who saw you and your uncle_ explode _,” he none-too-gently reminded. “They think you dead. And they will_ continue _to think you dead.”_

_“Why?” she snapped. “Why can’t they know who I am?!”_

_He suddenly stood, glaring down at her. “Because you are_ Shan _Zhu!” he spat, venom in his voice. “You are Shan Zhu, the daughter of the man who took my wife and kept her from me for five, agonizing years while forcing her to give birth to_ you _. You are Shan Zhu, the niece of the man that_ slaughtered _almost the entirety of my army and burned down countless villages. You are Shan Zhu, the constant reminder that I have failed to protect those I love most: My people and my family. After bringing so much pain into the world, you do not deserve happiness.”_

Zhu’s eyes snapped open and she bolted upright. She instant regretted it. Pain shot through her side and, cursing, she gripped at the wound. To her surprise, she felt bandages instead of torn flesh.

Looking down, she found herself bare from the waist up. Thanks to the bandages wrapped around her chest and stomach, though, she wasn’t left indecent. Her brows furrowed; the last thing she remembered was weakly mounting her mare after a brutal fight.

“Clearly, I somehow survived,” she mumbled to herself. Seeing a shirt folded beside the bedroll, she pulled it on.

Throwing back the blanket that covered her legs, she found herself wearing a pair of pants that didn’t belong to her—were they Shang’s? No one else in the group was close to her size…

‘That’s right,’ she thought, as she stood. She could feel something tight around her thigh; more bandages. ‘I had been stabbed there…’ Slowly, she stretched her limbs; they were stiff, but didn’t hurt. She wondered if Su had used one of her numbing concoctions on her wounds or if she was just _that_ used to pain by this point.

Glancing around, she ran her fingers through her hair and frowned once again. She was in the royal tent, but the Empress and princesses were nowhere to be found. Outside, however, she could hear voices.

Some of them, she realized, were coming closer to the tent.

She started to panic. Frantically, she started searching for her helmet and her mask, but neither could be found. In fact, _none_ of her clothes could be found; she couldn’t even find her spare set of clothing. Her body started to protest the sudden movements—apparently, Su _hadn’t_ used any numbing concoctions. She fought past the pain as she had done so many times in the past, needing to find _something_ to hide her face.

“Y-you’re awake.”

Zhu froze, her eyes wide as she heard the voice. Slowly, she forced herself to turn around. Mulan and Mei were standing just inside the tent; Mulan looked exhausted and her eyes were a bit pink. Mei, on the other hand, looked wide awake and, Zhu noticed, parts of her clothes were soaked.

Mulan suddenly lunged forward. A small yelp left Zhu’s mouth as she caught her and fell backwards onto her bedroll. The smaller woman clung onto her almost possessively, sobbing.

Zhu didn’t even try to hold back her own tears as she returned the embrace.

But part of her was scared. What if the Emperor found out that she had disobeyed his orders? But it wasn’t like she had done it purposefully…and Zhi wouldn’t let him harm her. No. Zhi would ensure that she would stay safe.

Then began washing over her. She could finally be herself again. No more having to hide her face and answer to ‘Senka’. No more having to ride alongside Mulan and the lieutenants, having to remain silent as they joked around with one another. No more crying herself to sleep because her friends were so close to her, yet she had to stay so far away.

Neither woman noticed as Mei crept out of the tent, leaving them alone.

For nearly a quarter of an hour, the two friends said nothing. Holding onto one another, they cried and they sobbed and they sniffled. At some point, Zhu had started to rock somewhat; whether it was to try and calm Mulan or herself, she didn’t know. Nor did she care and she had even less care for the pain coursing through her body as Mulan continued to squeeze her.

Finally, Mulan pulled back just enough to allow her to clasp Zhu’s face in her hands. She looked very nearly the same as the day she had ‘died’. But there was one, eerie difference: Her eyes. They had looked like every other person’s eyes before, but now…now the whites of her eyes were black and her irises were a silvery white.

It reminded her of Shan Yu’s eyes before Zhu had killed Hayabusa.

Shaking her head, she bit her lower lip. “How?” she whispered, voice hoarse from the crying. “ _How_ are you alive? I saw you—we _all_ saw you—you and Shan Yu—”

“It’s… _complicated_ ,” Zhu replied, her voice also coarse. “It should be explained to everyone at once…it will be easier that way.”

She nodded slowly, though it was obvious she didn’t like the answer. “Then tell me _why_ you didn’t tell us you were alive. Tell me why you were masquerading as Senka.”

“It was the order given to me by the Emperor.”

She frowned. “Why would he order you to do something like that, though?”

“He has little love for me.” Shaking her head, Zhu pulled Mulan into a hug once more. “I promise you, had he not given me the order, I would have told you the moment you stepped foot in the palace.”

Mulan returned the hug, swallowing a small sob. “I’ve missed you so much, Zhu.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” she whispered. “It pained me so much to have to hide myself from you. Especially in the mountain pass. Spirits, I wanted nothing more than to rip off that helmet and mask and tell you I was alive…”

“I wish you had.” She pulled back, using her sleeves to wipe her eyes. “But…I know you’re alive _now_ and that’s what matters.” Sniffling, she smiled at her. “I’ve got my best friend back.”

Zhu returned the smile. “And I don’t plan on leaving again for some decades.”

She laughed. “Good.” She watched as Zhu tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Upon closer inspection, she found that her hair nearly reached her hips. “Your hair has gotten longer. _Much_ longer.”

“So has yours.”

Bringing her braid over her shoulder, she started to run her fingers along it. “I’ve actually been wondering if I should cut it again. My head felt so much lighter when it was short.”

“Either way suits you,” Zhu told her. Shaking her head, she looked at Mulan with a smile. “You look so much different.”

“I do?”

She nodded. “Yes. You have more confidence in your movements. You stand straighter and you square your shoulders more. Your jaw isn’t as soft as it once was and your—your, ah, _curves_ have become more noticeable. Your arm muscles are bigger and more toned. And your eyes are brighter. Happier.”

Mulan stared at her for a moment before quietly laughing. “You really _are_ observant, aren’t you?”

Zhu smiled. “Yes.”

“Well, you look almost the same. Which—which, I hate to say it, surprises me. You would think the explosion would have left some sort of mark on you…”

“It did.” She looked away, a mixture of shame and guilt coming to her face. “It left an enormous mark. Thankfully, it’s mostly hidden by my clothing.”

A small frown came to Mulan’s lips; it wasn’t like Zhu to feel self-conscious about her appearance. “It must be pretty bad if it’s got _you_ concerned about it.”

“It is,” she sighed. “But, as I said, I can hide it with my clothing. Which, by the way…what I’m wearing _isn’t_ mine. Where are _my_ clothes?”

“You’re in Shang’s clothes,” Mulan chuckled. “Mei’s sewing up and washing your clothes. They…went through _a lot_ a few nights ago.”

She nodded in agreement. “We all did. How bad were the others hurt?”

An almost mischievous smile came to her lips. “Why don’t you come out and see for yourself?”

Zhu ran her fingers through her hair. “I’m not—”

“They know who you are by now,” she assured her. “It’s been two days and nearly thirty miles since the attack.”

“Has it really?” She frowned.

She nodded. “Yeah. The only ones _not_ hurt were your mother and sisters.”

At that, Zhu stiffened. “Y-you know--?”

“Well, when your identity became known, Zhi and the princesses figured they may as well let us know the rest of it. It certainly explained why Ting-Ting, Mei, and Su are so fond of you.”

An almost guilty smile came to Zhu’s lips. “I still have no idea _why_ they’re so fond of me,” she told her. “They _know_ what kind of person I used to be. They made me tell them what my life as a Hun was like and what sorts of things I did as one of Shan Yu’s elite. And yet…”

“They adore their big sister,” Mulan finished for her, chuckling. “I wouldn’t question it, honestly.”

“Most days I try not to.” She smiled. “It’s good to know I still have family…especially when all this time, I believe my mother dead…” She watched as Mulan stood up and straightened out her skirts.

“Come on,” she said, offering to help Zhu up. “You have three goofballs you need to _properly_ reunite with.”

Zhu swallowed hard as she took Mulan’s hand and stood up. She hid her nervousness well as she followed her out of the tent. The lieutenants surely hated her…didn’t they?

As they stepped out of the tent, she squinted against the bright sunlight. Once her eyes adjusted, she could see Shang and the lieutenants sitting around a small fire as Chien-Po stirred a pot of good-smelling food. Mei was nearby, repeatedly dunking what looked like Zhu’s red shirt into Su’s enormous, water-filled wok. Zhi was laying out already-washed clothes in the grass to dry while Ting-Ting and Su tended to the animals.

But the moment she and Mulan emerged, everyone stopped what they were doing. She rubbed the back of her neck and looked away; she hated how all the attention was suddenly on her.

Her sisters and mother let out happy exclamations before hurrying over and hugging her.

“You had me so worried!” Zhi told her, giving her a gentle squeeze. “When you came back, covered in blood and your side torn open, I thought we’d lose you for sure.”

Squeezing her mother in return, she let out a small sigh. “I’m sorry,” she told her, voice filled with guilt. “It was the only way I could give you a chance to escape.”

Her brow raised and a motherly pout on her lips, Zhi leaned back and tapped the tip of Zhu’s nose. “There is _always_ another way,” she gently scolded. “ _Always._ Remember that.”

She half-heartedly smiled. “I’ll try.” Her eyes flew open and she stumbled forward as Su suddenly latched on her; she was thankful when Zhi helped keep her upright.

“It’ll take more than a couple of bandits to take Zhu down!” she grinned. As Zhu looked down at her, she could see dark bruises along her arms from where the bandits had gripped her. “Not to mention, most of the bandits had been killed off by then. The ones who were left were easy pickings for her!”

“ _Only_ because the others had managed to wear them out,” Zhu told her. She did her best to not hiss in pain as Su gave her another, tighter squeeze.

Mei cocked her brow, her hands on her hips. “Su, if you squeeze her any harder, you’re going to make her stitches burst open.”

Su’s eyes widened and she suddenly let go of Zhu, who breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry!” she squeaked. “I forgot you were hurt…”

“It’s alright,” Zhu tiredly smiled, rubbing her sore side. “I know it was an accident.” As Mei stepped forward, she was given a _much_ gentler hug.

“I should have the last of your clothes sewn up by tomorrow,” she told her. “I’ve got your coat and pants left. Everything else is either being washed or drying.”

Nodding in understanding, she glanced over at the row of clothes in the grass. “Thank you…I appreciate it.”

“I know you do,” Mei chirped. “I’ve also taken the liberty of reinforcing the ties to your mask so it’ll be harder to rip from your face in the future. I’m afraid I can’t get all the blood stains out of the clothes, though.”

Zhu’s brow rose. “That’s fine,” she smiled. “My clothes are red and black for a reason.” She stepped over to Ting-Ting, giving her a hug. Out of all her sisters, Ting-Ting was closest to her in height, being only about three inches shorter. Together, they towered over their mother and sisters.

“I salvaged as many arrows as I could from the bodies of the bandits,” Ting-Ting told her. “I’ll have to make you some more, though. But I’ll need to buy some arrow heads when we reach the next village before I start carving.”

“Take your time. If need be, I’ve hunting blunts in the wagon.” She pulled back, frowning when she saw the bruise around her sister’s eye. “I’m sorry you and Su got hurt. I—I should have stayed closer to the carriage.”

Ting-Ting shook her head. “Don’t you _dare_ blame yourself,” she scolded. “There was so much happening all at once—you can’t be blamed for being elsewhere.” She then gave her an assuring smile. “Anyway, in the end, _you_ were the one who saved us. Even if it nearly cost you your life.”

Zhu shrugged, a small smile on her lips. “I guess Su was right: getting rid of me isn’t very easy.”

“Undoubtedly, as not even a tower filled with exploding fireworks could get rid of you.”

She stiffened, her eyes widening; that had been Chien-Po’s voice. Her stomach started to twist and churn. She watched as her mother and sisters stepped back, giving her space to - _hopefully_ \- reunite with the three lieutenants. But she wanted her family back around her, shielding her from sight.

She knew she would have to face those three at some point, but she was terrified to do so.

Taking a small breath, she turned around. Yao, Ling, and Chien-Po stood about a yard away from her. The three of them looked fairly roughed up: Yao had his arm in a makeshift sling. Ling’s left arm was bound to his torso to keep his shoulder from moving too much. Chien-Po’s face was badly bruised along one side and there was a massive blood stain on the right arm of his tunic, which was badly torn.

She wished she could have better kept them from harm.

“H-hi, guys,” she finally said, trying to force a smile.

Yao rested his fist on his hip. “Kid’s back from the dead an’ all she can say is ‘hi, guys’,” he said, shaking his head. “No ‘ya fought like gods o’ war!’ or ‘the ladies are goin’ ta _love_ those new battle scars ya got!’. Nope. Just a ‘hi guys’.” He playfully rolled his eye and blew a raspberry.

More than a little taken aback by his humor-laden reaction, she gawked at him. “W-wait,” she stammered. “You’re not—you’re not mad at me?” She could feel her cheeks beginning to grow warm. “But…But I thought you hated me…?”

Chien-Po tilted his head, a concerned look on his face. “Why would we hate you?” he questioned.

She looked away, cheeks burning, and murmured, “You know why.” She flinched as a hand suddenly came to rest on her shoulder. Peeking down at it, she found that it belonged to Ling. Her stomach churned even worse now; she felt like she was going to be sick.

“We hated you for a little while, yeah,” he admitted, “but we realized it wasn’t really _you_ we hated. It was _Shan_ Zhu we hated.” He offered her a smile. “But you? You’re Zhu. _Just_ Zhu. And you’ve made it more than obvious that you’re nothing like Shan Zhu.”

Unable to stop herself, Zhu suddenly let out a sob and hugged him. Just a few seconds later, Yao and Chien-Po joined in. Their various injuries made it difficult for a proper group hug to be initiated, but they managed it nonetheless.

“We’ve missed you,” Chien-Po told her, his voice as gentle as ever.

“Even _if_ ya didn’t congratulate us on our victory,” Yao added teasingly.

A half sob, half laugh left her mouth. “Well, you lot fought _amazingly_ ,” she chuckled, using the neck of her shirt to wipe her eyes. “If there had been any survivors, I’m sure they’re too terrified of you to try to come after us again.”

“Speaking of survivors,” Ling said, “how did _you_ survive that explosion?”

“It’s…a complicated story,” she answered. “And a bit long. You may want to get comfortable first.”

Nodding, the lieutenants moved to return to their spots around the fire. Zhu and Mulan sat against a fallen log. Zhi and the princesses, however, returned to their chores; they already knew the story.

For a few minutes, Zhu was silent as she tried to figure out where to begin. There was so much involved in her survival, it was almost overwhelming to think about. Eventually, though, she decided that, rather than trying to find a starting point, she should just start talking.

“Technically, I _didn’t_ survive the explosion,” she told them, her eyes closed so she wouldn’t have to see the horror on their faces. “I don’t know how long I was dead for, but I do know that I did, truly, _die_.”

“I _told_ ya she was some sort o’ undead!” Yao pouted, looking up at Ling and Chien-Po. “Why else would her eyes be all black an’ scary-like?” His words made Zhu’s eyes pop open and stare at him in surprise.

Chien-Po reached over and gently set his hand over Yao’s mouth. “He had managed to catch a glimpse under your helmet a week or so ago,” he explained. “He—he tried to convince Ling and me that you were some sort of undead demon.”

To their surprise, she looked impressed. “How did you see them?”

He shrugged. “I’m short, you’re freakishly tall, an’ the light was just right,” he said, shoving Chien-Po’s hand away. “Anyway. You was tellin’ us about how you’re an undead now. Continue.”

An exasperated laugh left her mouth. “I’m not _undead_ ,” she assured him. “I was _dead_ , but now I am very much _alive_. It’s all thanks to Umut.”

Mulan and the lieutenants exchanged skeptical glances. “But…Umut died,” Ling stated.

“An’ was a horse,” Yao added.

“Her vessel did, yes.” She winced as she shifted her position, now sitting cross-legged. “Unbeknownst to me, Umut wasn’t _just_ a horse. She was a djinn.” The confusion on their faces didn’t surprise her. “Djinn are magical creatures from the Arab Empire.”

Ling’s brow rose, a doubtful expression on his face. “Then how did _you_ get her? You’ve never been to Arabia.” He flinched as Yao lightly elbowed him.

“Ya don’t know that,” he scolded.

“What? She hasn’t! She would have told us otherwise!”

Zhu’s brows furrowed. “Why would I have told you something like that?” she questioned. “I was pretending to be a _Chinese_ mercenary; _of course_ I wouldn’t have told you about that!”

“Wait,” Mulan spoke, “you _have_ been to the Arab Empire?”

“Yes. Twice, actually. Along with the Frankish Empire, the Pala Empire, the Roman Empire, the Tibetan Empire…” She shrugged, not knowing _why_ the others were so amazed. Traveling to such faraway places was no big deal to her. “My uncle traveled to the farthest reaches of the land in order to grow his army. But, those are different stories for different times.

“As I was saying, Umut is a djinn and, yes, she _is_ from the Arab Empire. But she didn’t come to me there. She came to me because of my father, Shan Da.” She glanced up as Zhi came over. Wordlessly, her mother sat down on her left. “Both my uncle and my father had struck deals with demons in their youth, though my father hadn’t—hadn’t exactly been _willing_ to do such a thing. He was the younger brother and he saw little sense in trying to conquer a country that was unfamiliar to them at the time.”

Yao frowned. “But ya told us that Shan Yu wanted t’ reclaim the Hun’s ancestral homeland,” he interrupted. “You ‘n Mulan _both_ told us that.”

Zhu nodded. “Yes, but they had been taken _centuries upon centuries_ ago. We would never get them back and most of the Huns knew that. My _father_ knew that. But my uncle still wanted to try.”

“He wanted to be greater than Atilla,” Zhi added, her voice soft. “He wanted to bring back his people’s glory and make it so the mere mention of them would strike fear into the hearts of their enemies once more. Da, however, just wanted to live. But he loved his brother and, despite it being against his better judgement, he helped Yu in his plans.”

“As I said,” Zhu continued, “they had made pacts with a pair of demons. I don’t know what my uncle promised Hayabusa once their goal had been accomplished, but my father had promised his demon, Lilitu, the soul of his firstborn child.”

Ling frowned. “I take it you hadn’t been born yet?”

“No. And even if I had been, my father knew they would never conquer China. He knew I would be safe from her.” A small smile came to her lips when Zhi started to idly braid her hair. “But while Hayabusa was patient and knew they had to bide their time, Lilitu was impatient and greedy. The moment she found out my mother was pregnant, she was urging my father to give her my soul. It would make her more powerful, she told him. Having that soul would let her help him sooner.”

Chien-Po shook his head. “All of them lies, I take it?”

It was Zhi who nodded, surprising him. “By then, though, Yu and Da’s army was beginning to grow. Yu was in talks with princes and kings from other empires and Da was beginning to fear that they just _may_ succeed in taking over China.” As she spoke, she sectioned Zhu’s hair into many parts. “Worse than that, though, he began to suspect that Lilitu would break their pact and take Zhu’s soul by force.”

“Why did she want it so bad?” Yao asked with a frown. “What made her soul so much more desirable than the others?”

“She was a firstborn _and_ she was a child.” It was Chien-Po who spoke again. “Children are free of sin, making their souls pure. Firstborns are usually more desirable because they carry the greatest amount of a family’s strength and honor.”

Zhu let out a heavy sigh. “And when they’re the souls of royalty, they become the most desirable,” she said. “I was the daughter of a Hun prince and the _Empress_ of China. Two powerful bloodlines converged in me, making Lilitu nearly mad with lust for my soul.

“And my father knew that, day by day, that yearning was growing stronger in Lilitu. Until, one day, she finally snapped. He had refused her yet again and she left; she couldn’t take my soul without Da’s permission, after all, since it was part of their agreement. And demons, despite being evil, stay true to their word.” She scrunched her nose up slightly as Zhi accidentally tugged on some of the fine baby hairs at the base of her scalp.

“My father had the feeling he wouldn’t live much longer. With his death, his pact with Lilitu would be severed and she could take my soul freely. So, one night, he called out to the spirits of the world, praying that even just _one_ would hear his pleas. But because his soul was tainted by Lilitu, none came.”

“Except for Umut?” the lieutenants asked in unison.

“Except for Umut,” Zhu nodded. “My father begged her to keep me safe from Lilitu. He would do _anything,_ he told her. He would even give her his life if it meant Lilitu would never be able to get me, but she refused his life. She only wanted his gratitude. Within a year, my father was dead.”

Mulan bit her lower lip, guilt in her eyes. “My father.”

“Yes,” Zhi replied. The others couldn’t tell if her voice sounded more sorrowful or wistful. “There was a long, bitter battle between Shan Da and Fa Zhou. No one dared to interfere—not even Shan Yu would get near them.”

“He was busy elsewhere, anyway,” Zhu reminded her. “He was saving me from the burning yurt.” She felt Zhi starting to wrap a large braid around her head. “My neck is still going to be covered, right?” she worriedly asked.

“Yes, it will, love,” Zhi gently assured her.

Ling frowned slightly; it wasn’t like Zhu to worry about her appearance. He remained silent, however.

Zhu sighed, closing her eyes. “Where was I?”

“The night your father died,” Zhi reminded her.

“Thank you. Yes, that night, Umut’s pact with my father had ended. Lilitu tried to claim me, but Umut kept her promise, fighting off Lilitu until she was slain by a stray arrow. Umut thought about leaving me be, but she had grown fond of me and knew there would still be one demon around.

“Rather than let me succumb to Hayabusa’s influence, she continued to stay and watch over me, eventually taking a foal as a host to reside in despite being able to take on a physical form of her own. But she never let me know she was there. She knew I was terrified of Hayabusa and didn’t want me to be afraid of her.

“After the avalanche, she continued to stay with me, waiting to see what my fate would be. And when she realized I was going to let myself get killed…she took it upon herself to give me a second chance. I had changed so much, she told me, and I deserved to a fresh start.”

“Good!” Mulan said, pouting. “She’s right, you know—you _do_ deserve a fresh start.”

Zhu only acknowledged her comment with a half-hearted shrug. “Umut did all within her power to shield me from the explosion,” she continued. “But…Umut isn’t the strongest of djinn and I was still killed. My body wasn’t left _terribly_ mangled, though, which meant I could still be saved. …And, so, she gave me half of her life.”

Chien-Po made a curious noise while Yao looked at her with a frown. “Ya can do that? Just give half o’ your life ta someone else?”

“Djinn can,” she said, “but at a cost: Umut is now mortal, whereas before, she was _immortal_.” She nodded across the way at the five horses and four oxen. “She’s taken on the physical form of a horse and will remain in that form until death claims her. She also lost the majority of her magic, as she spent it reviving me. What little magic she _does_ have left, though, is still spent on helping me.”

“How so?” Ling asked.

“Without Umut, I’m blind.”

The three gawked at her with various amounts of shock. Mulan, however, looked more curious.

“How does that work?” she asked. “Whenever we’ve seen you, it—it seems like you can see perfectly well.”

Zhu smiled tiredly; explaining everything and having to answer all these questions was wearing her out. “I have to be within a certain distance of her in order to see,” she said. “But, there is a catch: The first few days of a new moon, she can’t help me see. She needs that time to rest. Umut can also take away my sight at anytime if she’s feeling fatigued or if I’m not in any danger.” While she spoke, the group watched as the blackness in her eyes suddenly disappeared, leaving her eyes almost entirely white. “…As she just demonstrated,” she said, voice dry.

“The new moon is just a few days away,” Mulan murmured, frowning.

“Whoa,” Ling murmured. Reaching over, he waved a hand in front of her face. “So, you’re _totally_ blind? Like, can’t even see light or dark?”

“When my eyes are open, everything is white.” She had no reaction at all to his hand. “I close my eyes, it’s black. That’s it.”

“I wonder _why_ it is she became blind, though?” Chien-Po murmured, more to himself than to the others.

She still heard him, however. “I opened my eyes right before everything exploded. My eyes were burned.” She covered her mouth as she yawned.

His cheeks turned a bit pink, embarrassed that he had been heard. “That makes sense,” he said. “But, when Umut is helping you, you can see as well as before…?”

“A bit better, actually. She has made it easier to see targets in the distance.”

Ling waved his hand in front of her face once more. “And you’re not lying to us? You _really_ can’t see us right now?”

“Not in the slightest.”

Yao grabbed Ling’s arm and pushed it down. “What ‘bout your hearin’ ‘n stuff? Isn’t that supposed t’ get stronger when ya lose your sight?”

She thought for a moment. “To be honest, I haven’t really noticed any difference. Perhaps, after a few days without my sight, there is a difference. Right now, though, I notice no difference.”

“And Umut can give and take your sight away at will, so long as you’re in range of her?” Mulan asked.

“Yes.”

“Can she give you any sort of warning before she takes it away?”

“Usually, she gradually takes it. My vision starts to get blurry, giving me enough time to find one of my sisters or my walking stick.”

Yao cocked a brow. “Walkin’ stick?” He scratched the side of his face. “Ya mean that stick tucked into the front o’ the wagon?”

“Yes.”

“Huh…was wonderin’ what is was for. Doesn’t look like it’d be much help. It’s a bit… _puny_ , don’t ya think?”

Now it was Ting-Ting who spoke. “It doesn’t need to be heavy,” she told him. “It’s not meant to be a weapon. Zhu uses it to feel out the area in front of her. Thanks to that stick, she can tell when there are obstacles or steps in her way.”

“Ahh…makes sense, actually,” Ling said, leaning back somewhat. “Though, I suppose you prefer to have someone helping you instead of a stick.”

Zhu shrugged. “At times. My sisters…can be a bit _too_ helpful sometimes.” She smiled apologetically, knowing her sisters were pouting. “But I really do appreciate their help. Especially in crowded areas.” She rubbed the back of her neck, sighing. “When I’m blind, being in crowded areas is…overwhelming.”

“That’s understandable,” Mulan said. She reassuringly set her hand on Zhu’s knee. “I’m sure all the noise and all the people bumping against you can be scary.”

“It can,” she admitted. “I’m so used to being able to look around and _see_ if I’m being followed or if there’s trouble brewing somewhere. When I’m blind…” She shook her head, not needing to finish her sentence for the others to know what she meant.

Ling gave her an encouraging smile before remembering she couldn’t see it. “Well, you won’t have to worry about that anymore,” he assured her. “Now you’ve got all of _us_ to be your eyes when you’re blind!”

Her brows furrowed. “Hm.”

Chien-Po frowned. “What is wrong?”

“I’m not sure I would trust Yao or Ling to be my eyes,” she answered. “I think they would only lead me in the direction of beautiful women.”

Yao pouted while Ling grinned innocently. “I don’t see much of a problem with that!” Ling laughed.

“You don’t? Because _I_ certainly see a problem with it,” she argued, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What kind o’ problem?” Yao asked.

Zhu’s brow rose ever so slightly. “ _You_ may be able to see the beautiful women, but I _can’t!_ Now tell me how fair is that?” She could hear her sisters giggling at her.

The lieutenants and Mulan, however, gawked at her.

“Did you…did _you_ just _tease_ him?” Mulan questioned, her brows rising in shock.

Zhu suddenly looked uncertain. “…I…tried to, yes,” she hesitantly replied. “I take it I didn’t succeed…?”

“No!” Yao assured. “No, it was pretty good! It was just—er, _unexpected_ t’ hear _ya_ usin’ humor.”

“She’s not very good at it yet,” Ting-Ting chuckled, “but she’s been learning.”

Ling laughed. “Well, between having to hear my puns and your jokes, I’m sure she’ll end up being a fast learner.”

“I doubt it,” Zhu sighed, cheeks turning pink. “I still find it difficult to tell if someone’s making a joke or if they’re being serious…”

Mulan gave her a gentle nudge. “Don’t worry about it. You know you can always ask us to clarify if we’re joking or not. Right, guys?”

The lieutenants agreed in unison, earning a small smile from Zhu.

“Thanks,” she told them.

“Ya helped teach us how t’ be warriors,” Yao said. “We’ll help teach ya how t’ be a civilian. An’ a _Chinese_ civilian at that.”

“No more having to sleep with a knife under your pillow,” Chien-Po smiled.

“Or having to fear for your life every waking minute,” Ling added.

Zhu smiled once more, though it was obvious by now that she was worn out. “I look forward to learning such things, even if my teachers _are_ a set of goofballs.”

 


	11. Chapter 11

When Zhu woke up, all was white.

A quiet sigh left her mouth as she lay there, listening to the sounds around her. She could hear the gentle snoring of Su beside her and the sleep-murmurings of Mei on the far side of the tent. She couldn’t tell if Ting-Ting or her mother were still in the tent or if they were already awake.

Thankfully, she had known she would wake up without her sight. Sitting up, she felt around the ground with her left hand until her fingers brushed against smooth wood. She slowly stood up and, with the walking stick in hand, made her way out of the tent.

As she stepped out, she was greeted by the warmth of summer sun on her skin. She was glad to find that it was daytime; it could be hard to tell without her sight. Some yards away, she could year Ling tiredly chatting with Chien-Po as they made breakfast.

“Good morning, Zhu,” Chien-Po chirped as she approached. Seeing her with the walking stick made him frown just the slightest bit. “The new moon has arrived already? I thought we had another night or two…”

“It’s hard to keep track of time when you’re traveling,” Ling yawned. “You only really know if it’s day or night…and that can be tricky if you’re traveling through bad weather.”

Carefully, Zhu sat down. She wasn’t quite sure if she was close to the lieutenants or not. “And it does not help when some months seem to be shorter than others.”

“Those are both true,” Chien-Po agreed. Zhu heard the crunching sound of vegetables being chopped and she wondered what he was making. “But, we shouldn’t have to worry about it too much longer. Shang said that we should be less than a week from Tianshui.”

Zhu blinked. “Already?”

He nodded, momentarily forgetting she couldn’t see him. “Yes. Evidently, he found a crossroads when he went scouting earlier—a crossroads that isn’t terribly far from the village.”

“Well, that’s good to hear!” Ling grinned. “The sooner we can sleep in real beds again, the better.”

“That’s _if_ the house is furnished,” Chien-Po reminded him. There was suddenly a loud hissing sound and the air filled with the scent of searing onions.

“It’s furnished,” Zhu assured them. “Both the house _and_ the servants’ house should be entirely ready for us when we arrive.”

Chien-Po and Ling exchanged confused glances. “Servants’ house?” they repeated.

Her head tilted somewhat. “Yes…? The three of you and I will be living in the servants’ house, since we’ll be under the guise of being servants to my mother and sisters. Didn’t Shang tell you of this…?” She did her best to not cringe at the sound of a metal spoon scraping against a metal pot. How hadn’t she noticed how grating it was on the ears before this?

“He _did_ tell us that we were going to be farmhands and the like,” Chien-Po explained, “but he didn’t say that there would be an entirely separate _house_ for us.”

Ling shrugged. “It makes sense, though. We’re not exactly the same rank as Zhi and her daughters—and we _definitely_ won’t be once we start acting as servants. But.” He looked at Zhu. “Shouldn’t _you_ be staying in the main house? You _are_ Zhi’s daughter, after all.”

A dark look briefly passed over Zhu’s face. “No,” she answered. “I will be acting as a servant as well and staying in the servants’ quarters.”

“But aren’t you going to be like a handmaiden or something? They tend to be more important than farmhands and gardeners.”

She let out a small laugh. “A _handmaiden_? Ling, what about me gives you the impression that I would know how to be one of those?” She shook her head, still chuckling. “I’m to be the stablemaster.”

“…Over just _two_ horses?” Chien-Po frowned. “That seems…odd.”

Zhu tilted her head again; she could hear either him or Ling starting to slice something. “There will be a total of eight horses. Once we arrive, I’ll be purchasing some for you, Yao, and my sisters.”

“That makes _much_ more sense,” he told her. “A little smaller than that, Ling. Thank you.”

“What’s he cutting?” Zhu questioned.

“Open your mouth,” Ling said before Chien-Po could speak, “and you tell me.”

With her brows furrowed, she cautiously opened her mouth. As something landed on her tongue, she closed it again and slowly started to chew. A few seconds passed before her face screwed up in disgust. She swore and spat the food onto the ground. Ling burst out laughing.

“Ugh!” She spat again, the taste lingering in her mouth. “Why did you do that!? You know I _hate_ hardboiled eggs!” She shuddered and wished she had something to wash away the flavor.

“ _You_ wanted to know!” Ling cackled. Chien-Po was relieved to see that he had set the knife down while laughing. The last thing Ling needed was to further hurt himself. “Oh gods, I wish you could have seen the face you made! It was _priceless_!”

She narrowed her eyes, pouting. “And I’m sure the face _you’ll_ be making when I force some shrimp into your mouth will be even _more_ priceless.”

Though he knew she couldn’t see it, he grinned broadly. “Good luck with that. Shrimp are hard to come by this far inland.”

“Then it’s a good thing Su made sure to pack a barrel of dried shrimp,” she replied, her voice dry and her brow raised. She heard Chien-Po stifle some laughter.

Ling let out a nervous laugh. “Very funny, Zhu.”

Her brow remained lifted, though she said nothing. She knew her silence would be enough to make Ling take caution the next time it was Zhu's turn to help prepare a meal.

“Ling, I need you to start cubing the pork belly now,” Chien-Po said, an amused smile on his lips.

“O-Oh, right,” he mumbled before using the back of his knife to push the bits of chopped egg to the side of his cutting board. He then picked up a slab of cured pork belly and, using his bound hand to hold the very end of the meat, started to slice off thick slices.

“What’re you making?” Zhu asked, pulling a knee to her chest. She winced slightly; her chest was still sore from the battle with the bandits. “It smells good.”

Adding a bit more oil to the wok, Chien-Po used the metal spatula to stir its contents around. “A sort of breakfast fried rice,” he explained, not noticing Zhu scrunch her nose up at the sound of metal scraping metal. “Right now, I have carrots, onion, and some bok choy cooking away. Once Ling’s finished with the pork belly, that’ll go in and render out some fat before I add in the rice.”

She nodded in understanding. “Sounds like it will be good…except for the hardboiled eggs.”

He chuckled. “Those will not be added to the wok itself,” he assured her. “I will let the others serve themselves the egg.”

“Why aren’t you doing scrambled eggs? Isn’t that the traditional way?”

“It is, but we had a few eggs leftover from last night and I would rather not waste them.”

A small frown came to her lips. “You used them in last night’s dinner?”

“Su and I made sure your bowl had none.” He glanced over at Ling. “Just like we made sure not to put any dried shrimp in Ling’s or any beansprouts in Yao’s.”

“We’re such a picky bunch of eaters, aren’t we?” Ling teased, wearing a cheeky grin.

“You can be, yes,” he admitted. Zhu nearly jumped as the wok started to loudly hiss; the smell that instantly followed let her know the pork belly had been added. “But it makes for an interesting challenge when coming up with meals. Though, I must be honest: I am _extremely_ grateful that you and Yao have gotten over your distaste for soy sauce.”

“Wait, _what_?” Zhu ‘stared’ in Ling’s direction. “You two used to not like soy sauce?” She was confused by this confession; the Chinese _loved_ their soy sauce. ‘At least,’ she thought, ‘that’s what it seems like…’

“It was too salty for us when we were kids,” he explained. “And, sometimes, it was the only seasoning our food got if whoever made the meal was lazy—and they almost _always_ just threw in a bunch of the stuff without measuring.” He shrugged. “On days like that, it’d give us bad headaches. I mean, we like it now, but that’s because Chien-Po—and Su, for that matter—know how to use restraint when using it.”

“That makes sense.” More sizzling filled her ears and she wondered if the rice had now been added. “I had only had it _maybe_ twice before I went to Moo-Shung, but it’s also not terribly common outside of China.”

“What kind of foods do the other parts of the world have?” Chien-Po asked her.

She was silent for a moment as she thought back to her past. Much of it was a blur, especially in regards to the foods she ate in foreign lands. She had been very young when they had traveled to the furthest reaches, but many times, she had simply been too tired after training to eat very much, let alone _notice_ what it was she was eating.

“Hm. I remember a heavily spiced lamb dish we ate in the palace of an Arab prince,” she finally said. “It was covered in a thick, yellow sauce that had a tangy flavor. I remember it being really good, though; whoever had made it had cooked the lamb in such a way that it practically melted in your mouth.

“In the Roman Empire, they had this strange vegetable that looked like a giant thistle. They would remove some outer leaves and its center, stuff it with…bread and herbs, I think? And then they would bake it. I didn’t like it too much, but my uncle _loved_ it.”

Ling and Chien-Po glanced at one another. It was still strange for them to hear Zhu talked about Shan Yu as if he were a normal human being.

“Then there was a _disgusting_ dried fish we were forced to eat for _months_ after visiting the Frankish Empire,” she continued. “The fish had to be soaked for something like three days before it became the slightest bit edible. The water had to be changed at _least_ twice a day, otherwise whatever it was that preserved the fish could linger in the meat and poison the eater.”

“That sounds horrifying!” Startled by the new voice, Zhu blinked and turned her head away from the two lieutenants. “Why would someone preserve food in _poison_?” It was Mulan who spoke. “Did they have some sort of death wish?” As she sat down beside Zhu, she took care to not sit on the walking stick.

Zhu shrugged. “It was easier than salting it, I guess,” she said. “Good morning, by the way. Did you sleep well?”

“Morning to you, too,” she chuckled. “I slept alright. Yao’s snoring was a bit louder than normal.”

Ling let out a sigh; it sounded surprisingly concerned. “Yeah, I forgot to make sure to roll him onto his side,” he told them. “I usually do that before I hit the hay, but I was so tired after my watch, I just went straight to my bedroll.”

“I’ve noticed that,” Zhu said. “Why _do_ you do that?”

“When Yao sleeps on flat ground, his snoring gets quite bad,” Chien-Po explained, “and sometimes, he doesn’t breathe for nearly half a minute. If he has pillows or sleeps on his side, however, that doesn’t happen.”

Mulan’s eyes widened in shock. “What!? Why does he stop breathing?!”

“No idea,” Ling said with a shrug. “He’s done it his whole life. But, like Chien-Po said, he doesn’t do it if he’s on his side or has his head lifted. Only when he’s totally flat.”

‘Sounds similar to Ruga,’ Zhu thought. ‘There were times I had to hit him to get him to start breathing again…’

“There,” Chien-Po chirped. “Breakfast is done. Ling, can you make Zhu a bowl while I go wake Shang and Yao?” He started to stand up. “An _eggless,_ bowl,” he added.

“Sure thing. How much do you want, Zhu?”

“Um…three-quarters of a bowl?”

He noticed the uncertainty in her voice. “You don’t sound too sure about that.”

“I—I don’t know the size of the utensil being used.” Her cheeks grew a bit warm; she knew she shouldn’t have felt embarrassed, but she felt it regardless.

“Oh! It’s the medium metal spatula—the one that’s about the size of your hand with your fingers held together.”

A thankful smile came to her lips when Ling made no comment about how odd her statement was. In fact, she was rather surprised that he actually _described_ the size of the spatula for her. “Thank you. Two smallish scoops then.”

“Two smallish scoops of rice and absolutely _no_ eggs for Zhu. How much for you, Mulan?”

“The same, but _with_ eggs.” She stood up, moving to get some chopsticks for herself and a spoon for Zhu.

“Sure thing. Bowl incoming, Zhu. No eggs, I promise.” As he leaned over, he watched her hold out her hands. “Mulan’s getting you a spoon.” He made sure to lower the bowl into her palms, waiting for her to take its weight before letting go.

Feeling the weight and warmth of the bowl against her palms, she started to pull it towards herself. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And here comes Mulan with your spoon delivery.”

Mulan’s brow rose as she came back and placed the spoon in Zhu’s bowl. “Spoon delivery?”

He nodded. “Yep. Here’s your bowl, by the way. Is that enough egg or would you like more?” He held her bowl out towards her only for her to take it.

“Perfect amount, actually. Thanks, Ling.”

He proudly puffed out his chest. “Unlike Yao, I can actually be helpful when it comes to cooking!”

“So long as you’re not the one doing any actual cooking,” Zhu said, having shoved a bite of rice into her cheek. She chewed the bite and swallowed it before continuing. “Don’t think I don’t remember how badly you burnt the chicken last week.”

Ling pouted, his prideful posture deflating. “Well, you didn’t have to go and remind me about that,” he said. “I swear I had only left it for two minutes! How does chicken burn that badly in _two minutes_?!”

“At least you didn’t burn down half a tree like Yao did,” Mulan giggled.

Zhu’s brow furrowed. “Yao burnt half a tree…?”

“Let’s just say that Yao is _never_ going to be allowed to do any sort of cooking for the rest of his life,” Ling chuckled.

 

~*~

 

When Shang said they were less than a week from Tianshui, he actually meant they were only _two days_ from the village. This _greatly_ pleased the travelers; they could finally sleep in proper beds again and take real baths instead of splashing around in chilly rivers.

But it also meant they now had to be extra cautious when speaking to Zhi and her daughters. One slip of the tongue and rumors could start traveling around China that its Empress and princesses were hidden away. _Not_ something they needed after already being ambushed.

“How far from your home are we going to be?” Zhu asked, riding alongside Mulan. Still blind, she was unable to see the sprawling village ahead of them.

“Fairly close, if I recall correctly,” Mulan answered. “Maybe even right across the road…to be honest, I didn’t really pay attention to the development of the area. I just thought someone _normal_ was finally going to put the land to good use.”

“Normal people _are_ going to be putting it to good use,” Shang reminded her. As he spoke, he looked over his shoulder to find the princesses with their heads hanging out of the carriage; Ting-Ting, chopsticks shoved up her nose, was making her sisters laugh. “They’re just…Not as normal as everyone else.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Mulan giggled. She looked back over at Zhu, noticing that she looked a bit uneasy. “Is everything alright, Zhu? You look worried.”

Zhu shook her head. “Everything is fine,” she assured her. “I’m just a bit nervous is all.”

“Nervous?” Shang questioned, brow rising. “Why are you nervous?”

She felt her cheeks grow a bit warm. “I’m wondering if anyone will recognize that I’m—that I’m half Hun.”

Mulan frowned. “I doubt that’ll happen. No one in my village has ever seen a Hun.”

Zhu turned her head in her direction. “Save for your father.”

“True, but I highly doubt he’d know you’re half Hun.”

“He might,” Shang said, earning a small glare from Mulan. “She’s taller and broader than us. Combined with the fact that she has an accent, it’s not hard to piece it together.”

Mulan rested her fists on her hips. “We could just say she’s from a different part of China!” she argued. “Or we could simply tell people to mind their own business if they ask where she’s from! Don’t you think it’s a bit nosy if people ask questions like that?”

To her surprise, Zhu started to quietly laugh. “Mulan,” she said, voice gentle, “your father saw _my_ father close-up. A face like Shan Da’s isn’t one you easily forget. _Especially_ when he had these eyebrows.” She pointed at her own forehead.

She was silent for a moment. “We could shave them?” she suggested. “Or pluck them a bit. It’s not uncommon for women to remove their brows and put painted ones in their place, after all.”

“Her sisters tried that already,” Shang told her. “It…didn’t go terribly well.”

“Why not?”

Zhu frowned, her eyes narrowing somewhat. “I will endure all manners of pain from wounds received on the battlefield,” she said, “but I will _never_ allow myself to go through the pain of having _both_ my eyebrows plucked from my face again.”

Covering her mouth, Mulan did her best to hold back any laughter. “You—you really let them pluck them off entirely?”

“Yes. And, to this day, I still regret it.”

“I’m sure whatever eyebrows they drew on you looked just fine!”

“It wasn’t the drawn-on eyebrows that bothered me,” Zhu sighed. “It was the hour of burning pain followed by bruising that had to be hidden under white powder and rouge and dai.” She furrowed her brows, her nose somewhat scrunched up. “I looked _ridiculous_.”

“You did _not_ ,” Shang assured her. “You looked like every other woman of noble birth.”

Mulan blinked. “Wait—wait, you actually wore a full face of makeup?”

She let out a heavy sigh. “Yes. And the white powder used to cover my face _burned_. I didn’t so much mind the rouge or the dai; they were fine if I wore them without the powder.”

“But why did you have to wear the makeup in the first place? You’re not a member of the court and you’re not a noblewoman…Did you have to go see a matchmaker?”

Zhu’s brows furrowed deeper. “…Matchmaker? What is a matchmaker?”

“Exactly as it sounds,” Shang answered. “She’s a woman, usually married and middle-aged, who is sought for by a family who can’t find a bride or groom for their child.”

“I had to see one,” Mulan sighed. “It…It didn’t go well. She said I may have looked like a bride, but I would never be one. Nor would I ever bring my family honor…” She saw the concerned looks both Zhu and Shang now wore. “That was _before_ I took my father’s place,” she assured them. “I—I _may_ have accidentally set her on fire during the interview portion.”

“Ha!” Zhu grinned broadly. “She sounds like a woman who deserves to be set on fire.” She ‘glanced’ over her shoulder when she heard the others burst out laughing. ‘Ting-Ting or Ling must have told a good joke,’ she thought.

“Perhaps she is…she’s well known for her sternness and crotchety nature,” Mulan said, smiling as she also looked over her shoulder. “The Huns don’t have matchmakers, then?”

Shaking her head, Zhu adjusted her helmet. “No. Most of the time, the family of the bride would negotiate with the family of a potential groom. Sometimes, a couple who truly loved each other were permitted to marry even if they had other suitors wanting to marry them. I, on the other hand, was promised to potential allies in order to gain their favor.”

Shang and Mulan stared at her, eyes wide. “W-wait, you were _engaged_?” Shang stammered.

She shrugged. “A handful of times, yes. But my uncle let me put forth the condition that my future husband had to defeat me in combat in order to marry me,” she explained. The two were shocked by how casually she spoke about such a thing. “Most of them I defeated with ease. Which was an embarrassment to them because, at the time, I hadn’t yet seen fifteen summers.”

“And…the others proved to be a bit more of a challenge?” Mulan asked, brow slowly rising.

“No. Only _one_ was able to defeat me,” she admitted with a sigh. “But we were never married. After the initial treaties were made and men added to my uncle’s army, there wasn’t any _time_ for us to marry. Thank the Earth Mother for that.”

Mulan bit her lower lip. “But how was he able to defeat _you_? You’re one of the best warriors in China.”

A half-hearted smile came to Zhu’s lips. “I made the mistake of letting _him_ choose the combat we would partake in. He picked sword fighting.” She heard them both quietly ‘ooh’ in disappointed distaste.

“Shan Yu’s army is dead and all of his elite were executed, so at least you don’t have to worry about him anymore?” Mulan offered.

Zhu ‘glanced’ in Shang’s direction, her face expressionless. Shang stared straight ahead, though, his lips clamped together and his eyes fixed on the approaching village.

Mulan frowned. “What aren’t you telling me?” she demanded.

“The man I was supposed to marry is _very_ much alive,” Zhu said, voice quiet. “He, along with another one of my uncle’s elite, was able to escape the Emperor’s dungeons. But whether he knows _I’m_ still alive or not is unknown.”

“Wh-what?!” Mulan squeaked. “How was he able to escape!?”

“He is a master of stealth and of trickery,” Zhu explained. “He’s the one who trained me, in fact.”

She bit her lower lip again. “Which one is he…? And who was the other who escaped?”

“Do you remember what the elite look like?”

“Yes. Three of them were large; two were twins. There were two others; a man with deformed legs and a man with long hair.”

Zhu nodded; she felt an ache fill her chest as she remembered their faces. “Mundzuc, the one with long hair, was the one who defeated me,” she sighed, “and Roua, the twin _with_ hair, was the other who escaped.”

Feeling her eyes beginning to sting at their memory, she swallowed her sorrow. ‘They were bad people, Zhu,’ she told herself. ‘They found joy in decimating the Chinese army. In killing. In pillaging. Remember that.’

‘But, I _also_ once found pleasure in such things,’ another part reminded her.

“Mundzuc?” Mulan repeated, frowning. “That’s not a pleasant-sounding name…”

“He’s…not the most pleasant of men to be around,” Zhu told her. She felt her cheeks grow dark as she admitted, “He was the only person in the entire army I was I had any fear of.”

Mulan and Shang exchanged worried looks.

“You never told me you were _terrified_ of him,” Shang said, his voice betraying his worry. “Only that he was one of Shan Yu’s best assassins!”

“What was I suppose to say?” she suddenly snapped. “I couldn’t very well admit such a thing in front of the Emperor! If I had, you _know_ he would have found some way to—” She silenced herself, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I…I just—”

“It’s a sore spot for you,” Shang told her. “I understand. But I do wish you would have told me in private. Knowing that man scared even _you_ is just a _bit_ worrying.”

“B-but we _don’t_ have to worry about him, right?” Mulan piped up. “He and—Roua, did you say his name was?—have more than likely fled China. And who knows? Maybe they’ve been killed by bandits or some soldiers near the wall?”

“I can only hope Mundzuc met such a fate,” Zhu sighed. “How much further until we’ve reached the village?” she asked, changing the subject.

Shang let out a small sigh of relief; he was glad for the change. It was also well-timed on Zhu’s part. “To reach the village proper would be another five minutes,” he informed, “but we’ve actually reached our destination.” Gently tugging on the reins, he guided Jiang through a wooden gate into an empty courtyard.

The rest of the group followed behind him. The wagon and carriage had to be brought in one at a time; though both easily fit in the courtyard, the gate wasn’t _quite_ wide enough to allow them pass through together. Before Zhi and her daughters could leave the carriage, though, Shang insisted he and the lieutenants check out the buildings to ensure that no one was waiting to ‘surprise’ them.

“For once, I agree with his over-protectiveness,” Mulan chuckled, dismounting Khan. Peering past the wagon and carriage, she could see her own home just a few hundred feet away. “Looks like I was right about being across the road from here.”

“Is that so?” Zhu dismounted Umut. As she started to feel along her saddle and bags, searching for her walking stick, she began rapidly blinking.

Mulan frowned. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” she answered, clenching her eyes shut for a moment. Upon opening them, Mulan saw that they were black. “Umut, are you sure…? You’re a day early.”

The mare turned towards her, an almost motherly look in her eyes. She nuzzled Zhu’s cheek before nudging her forward, towards Mulan.

“Alright, alright,” Zhu smiled, brow raised. She looked at Mulan, whose confusion was all-too obviously written on her face. “I _was_ supposed to get my vision back tomorrow, but Umut gave it back to me just now. I guess she wanted me to be able to see my new home.”

“That’s good,” she chirped. “Especially since this is an entirely new area to you. It’ll give you time to get used to it before your sight goes again.”

Nodding, she glanced over her shoulder. “Very true. I just hope she doesn’t wear herself out. Then again, she could always give me a few days _with_ sight and then take a few more days of rest…”

Mulan gave Khan a small pat on the side of his neck before motioning behind him. He turned and started to walk out of the courtyard. “That she could. But something tells me you get to wait another month for that to happen.”

She shrugged, watching as Khan walked across the road and through a different gate. “More than likely. But, this _is_ Umut we are discussing. She has surprised me more than once throughout my life.”

Looking around, she saw that there were three buildings within her immediate sight: The main house, the servants’ quarters, and the barn. Of the three, the barn was the largest and was comprised of multiple stories. Second largest was the main house; though it was only a single story, she could see that it stretched back quite a way. The servants’ quarters were connected to the main house via a short, covered pathway.

Soon enough, Shang and the lieutenants returned from their inspection. Mulan and Zhu knew things must have gone well because Shang was wearing a small smile.

“Everything is safe,” he told them. “No living thing was found, though there was plenty of furniture.”

“Already?” Mulan blinked. “I would have expected furniture to be bought _after_ arrival.”

“It wasn’t bought,” Zhu smiled. “It was shipped _weeks_ ago from the palace.”

“That…actually makes sense.”

The three of them turned as they heard the princesses and Zhi leaving the carriage. Su was the first to hop out, a broad grin on her face.

“I can finally see what my new kitchen looks like!” she chirped, starting to skip off. “And get to see my new room!”

“Wait for me!” Mei came out next, blowing some loose strands of hair from her face. “I need to make sure I have the room with the most light for my sewing!”

Ting-Ting emerged next. “Mei, you have an entire _room_ meant for your sewing and dying, remember? You gave father your pouty eyes just to be extra sure you got one.”

A mischievous smile came to Mei’s lips. “ _Of course_ I remember. But I still would like the room with the most daylight!” Before her sister could protest, she hurried up the steps into the house.

Shaking her head, Ting-Ting instead went over to Zhu, Mulan, and Shang. “I don’t really care what room I get,” she told them, wearing a weary smile. “I’ll be in the barn most of the time anyway.”

Mulan frowned. “The barn? Why is that?”

“For her woodworking,” Zhu answered.

“It’s far too messy a hobby to do inside the house,” Shang added. “Especially when Ting-Ting _really_ gets into her work.” He then looked at Zhu. “You’ll be sure to pry her away from it sometimes so she can eat and sleep, correct?”

Zhu smirked. “I’m the stablemaster. I can lock her out if need be.”

Pouting at her, Ting-Ting rested her chin on her shoulder. “You wouldn’t do that to your favorite little sister, would you?” It still surprised Mulan that there was only a few inches difference between their heights; Mei and Su were absolutely tiny compared to them.

Zhu’s brow rose and she grinned. “Unluckily for you, I _don’t_ have a favorite little sister.”

Ting-Ting suddenly lifted Zhu up, holding her above her head. “I’d reconsider your words, big sister!” she grinned. She didn’t seem to notice that, not only were Shang and Mulan’s jaws hanging open, but so were the jaws of the lieutenants. “Or will I have to tie you up and let Mei dress you like her doll?” She started to giggle, ruining the seriousness of her threat.

“You’re getting better with your threats!” Zhu laughed. She then winced, shifting slightly as her ribs began aching. Seeing her pain, Ting-Ting set her down. “You need to work on remaining stoic,” she told her, rubbing her side. “An emotionless face is what leaves those you are threatening the most unnerved.” She looked past her sister. “I should go help the goofballs with the unpacking.”

“I can help, too,” Ting-Ting smiled. “Mei and Su won’t be much help after all.”

“I am incredibly certain they’ll be helping us,” Zhu said, starting to walk off. “They will help by telling us where to put everything!”

Ting-Ting giggled again. “Too true! We need to make sure we stay away from the kitchen, though. Su will be an absolute _nightmare_ when it comes to organizing things in there.”

“Then it’s a good thing Chien-Po has the patience of…Buddha? Is that the jolly fat man god?”

“That would be the Laughing Buddha, better known as Pu-tai,” Ting-Ting explained. “He’s entirely different from the true Buddha, known as Gautama Buddha. He’s the thinner one who’s depicted meditating.”

Zhu nodded slowly in understanding. “Interesting…So, there are multiple Buddhas?” She climbed into the back of the wagon and grabbed a large chest.

“Yes. It’s…a bit complicated to explain, though,” she admitted, starting to take the chest from Zhu. “Put those two smaller chests on top of this.”

Doing as instructed, she grabbed two smaller boxes; despite their size, each had to weigh nearly fifty pounds. “Religions _are_ complicated. Chien-Po tried to tell me about them in the past, but I couldn’t really wrap my head around all the different gods and demigods…” She shook her head, grabbing another large chest and stacking the rolls of Mei’s fabric atop it before hopping out of the wagon.

“Says the woman who follows a religion,” Ting-Ting teased as they headed for the house.

She shrugged. “The Earth Mother and Sky Father are fairly simple, though. The Earth Mother aids and protects women while the Sky Father aids and protects men.”

“True.” Stepping into the house first, she glanced over her shoulder to make sure Zhu was able to step in without trouble. Due to the rolls of fabric, she had to enter sideways. “You didn’t bump those, did you?” she teased. “Mei will throw a fit if she finds even the tiniest speck of dirt on those, you know.”

Grinning, Zhu rolled her eyes. “No, I _didn’t_ bump them,” she chuckled. She blinked as she was unexpectedly relieved of her burden. Looking up, she found Chien-Po smiling down at her.

“I’ll take these for you,” he said. “I know which rooms to put them in.”

“Thanks,” Zhu smiled.

“And _I’ll_ take these!” Ling chirped, reaching for the boxes Ting-Ting carried.

Ting-Ting wore a look of worry as he tried to relieve her of the trunks. “It’s quite alright, Ling,” she assured him, still holding the majority of the weight. “I assure you, I’ve got these.”

He let out a laugh. “Ah, don’t worry about it! I can carry these things _easily_!” he said. “Anyway, I don’t have to carry them very far; just a few rooms down!”

“If you insist…” Still worried, she slowly let go of the chests, letting the weight ease into Ling’s grip. When she fully let go, it was obvious that the weight was almost too much for Ling to carry.

Not wanting to embarrass himself in front of the two women, however, he managed a red-faced smile. “See? Easy peasy! Yao and Chien-Po aren’t the _only_ strong guys ‘round here.” He started to walk off, taking care to not hurt himself under the weight.

Zhu shook her head while Ting-Ting hid a small giggle behind her hand.

‘Why risk hurting himself just to carry some chests?’ Zhu thought as she headed back outside. ‘Is he embarrassed that he’s not as strong as Yao or Chien-Po? If that’s the case, he really shouldn’t be. What he lacks for in strength, he more than makes up for in endurance. Though, it _was_ kind of sweet to see how hard he tried to help Ting-Ting.’

She cocked her brow slightly. Since when did she use the word ‘sweet’ to describe the goofballs? As she hopped into the wagon, she lightly shook her head.

‘All these kindhearted women must finally be rubbing off on me…’


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I'm actually done writing Daughter of Rebirth and am almost done writing the Interlude! I'm debating whether I should continue the every-other-week upload schedule or start uploading once a week...On the one hand, I can get a larger buffer. On the other, less waiting for you guys. Hmmmm....

While unloading the wagon had taken only a few hours, it took the rest of the week for them to get everything unpacked and put into place. When they weren’t unpacking, the group could be found behind the house, lounging in the garden. Su, however, didn’t so much lounge as she did garden; the flowers and shrubs, in her opinion, needed tending to as they had been poorly cared for.

Everyone else, not being botanists, thought they looked fine.

Towards the end of the week, Mulan took Zhi and the princesses into town to show them around while Shang showed Zhu and the lieutenants around the outer areas of the village. While the royals were shown where the seamstresses, weavers, and market were, the soldiers learned which parts of the village were most defensive, where protection was weakest, and potential escape routes should an attack happen. The royals came back with baskets full of cloth, fruits, and jewelry.

The soldiers came back hot, sweaty, and _badly_ needing baths.

“It feels good to have clean hair again,” Zhu sighed, using a towel to gently squeeze as much water from her hair as possible. As Mei beckoned her over, comb in hand, she sat down on the floor in front of her chair.

“Being clean in general is a nice way to feel,” Mei told her. Taking the towel from her sister, she draped it over the arm of the chair before beginning to comb through her hair. “ _Why_ Shang had to take you four out in the midday heat is beyond me…He could have done it in the early morning or in the evening. Times when it’s _not_ sweltering.”

“At least it’s a dry heat.” Zhu covered her mouth as she yawned. “Summer in the Imperial City was _miserable_ thanks to how humid the air was.”

Mei chuckled. “Well, the humidity is no longer a problem. For a while, at least. I haven’t the slightest idea how long we’ll be staying here.”

“At least a year. Maybe more if things remain tense; maybe less if your father finds a peaceful solution.”

Sectioning off Zhu’s hair, Mei found it easier to comb the individual sections. “Speaking of fathers,” she said, “Mulan’s family will be coming over tonight for dinner.” She felt Zhu tense up.

“When was this decided?”

“While we were out. Mother thinks it’s a good way to get to know our so-called aunt, uncle, and grandmother.”

Zhu felt her stomach churn. “Oh…I see.”

Mei’s brow rose. “What’s wrong? Shang and the lieutenants have already met them and told us they were lovely people. And mother already knows Fa Zhou—Oh…” Though she sat behind her sister, she still wore an apologetic look. “That’s right…I had forgotten.”

“It’s fine,” Zhu sighed. “It’s better I meet him now than avoid him for however long we will be staying here.

“Very true.” She set the comb aside and began to play with her sister’s hair as she tried to decide on a style. “I do wish you would wear up-dos. They would frame your face so nicely!”

Zhu unconsciously covered the back of her neck with her hand. “Not unless I have something to cover the scar…”

“There _are_ styles that do keep the neck covered, you know. But, I won’t press you. I know having your hair up makes you uncomfortable. However, I _will_ make you wear one of your dresses tonight.”

“…No makeup, though?”

“No makeup. Well, maybe a _touch_ of rouge, but no face powder.”

She let out a sigh of relief. “Good.” Bringing a knee to her chest, she rested her chin on it. “What are the others doing?”

“Su and Chien-Po are preparing the dinner while Yao and Ting-Ting set up the tables outside,” she answered. “Ling and Shang had to go to town to buy more lanterns. Mother and Mulan are over at Mulan’s home, talking with her parents.”

“Everyone is accounted for, then.”

“Mhm.” Her fingers deftly wove the damp locks in and around each other. “Do you like your room, by the way? I haven’t been to the servants’ quarters yet.”

Zhu closed her eyes. “It…is a room,” she said with a small shrug. “Smaller than what I am used to, but I do not think setting up a yurt in the garden would be a wise idea.”

Mei chuckled. “Not really.” She set a section of braided hair over Zhu’s shoulder. “But does it suit your needs? Do you have enough space? Enough privacy? Su and I could share a room if you’d—”

“I promise you, Mei, my room is fine,” she chuckled. “I have plenty of space for my meager amount of belongings and the bed is comfortable. There is nothing more I need.”

“And the lieutenants stay decent?”

She frowned. “Decent? What do you mean by that?”

Mei felt her cheeks grow a bit warm. “You know…do they remain, well, _respectful_? They don’t walk around in—they don’t walk around in the—in the _nude_ or anything?” She jumped as Zhu suddenly laughed.

“Mei,” she chuckled, looking over her should, “not only have I already seen the three of them naked, I’ve _bathed_ alongside them. Before that, I bathed alongside members of my uncle’s army. Even _if_ they did walk around in the nude—which they do not, I assure you—it would be nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Her cheeks now burning, Mei pouted. “But are they _gross_? You know…scratch inappropriate places while you’re around or the like? I know they were gentlemen while we were traveling, but that can easily change behind closed doors.”

“What you are trying to ask me is if they behave like uncultured men?”

“…Essentially, yes.”

Rolling her eyes, Zhu wore a small smile. “If you are worried that the lieutenants are going to corrupt my sense of morality, you have no worries. My morality was corrupted _long_ before I met those three,” she assured her sister. “They act very much the same as they did when we were traveling. One will occasionally leave their room without a shirt, but that tends to be the very early morning or late at night.”

“Well, I certainly hope _you_ don’t leave your room without a shirt.”

“And let them see the results of an enormous firework exploding against a person’s back? No, thank you.”

Mei sighed, closing her eyes for a few seconds. “I was thinking more along the lines of them seeing your breasts, but I suppose that would work, too.”

Zhu cocked her brow. “Again, I _bathed_ alongside them.”

“Yes, but you were covered by the water!”

“Not my upper half.”

“What!? Then how didn’t they know you were a woman!?”

Tilting her head back, she gave Mei a bored look. “At the time, a plank of wood had a more ample bosom than me.”

Mei huffed quietly but said nothing. Instead, she continued with her braiding. Zhu, meanwhile, once again rested her chin atop her knee and closed her eyes.

“…Zhu?” the younger asked after some minutes.

“Hmm?”

“…You…didn’t happen to notice if Yao’s muscles were at all pronounced, did you?” she asked, voice shy and face burning.

Snorting, Zhu rolled her eyes. Before she could answer, however, Ting-Ting came into the room, some clothes draped over her arm. She smiled at her sisters, though her brow rose when she saw how red Mei was.

“Is…everything alright in here?” she asked.

“Fine!” Mei squeaked.

Zhu feigned a guilty smile. “I was embarrassing Mei by telling her how I used to bathe alongside a bunch of men,” she half-lied. “Back when I was a Hun and a Chinese soldier.”

Ting-Ting’s eyes widened. “Wh-what?” she gasped. “You mean—you mean you saw…?” Her cheeks started to turn red, but she managed to regain her composure. She quickly shook her head before giving her older sister a scolding look. “No wonder Mei’s so red!”

Zhu shrugged. “Nudity was not as taboo among the Huns as it is among the Chinese.”

“There,” Mei suddenly interjected. “Your hair is done. _Now_ , you can go put on one of your dresses.” Uncrossing her legs, she slid out of the chair and straightened out her skirts.

“Speaking of dresses, one of hers ended up in _my_ belongings.” She lifted the cloth from her arm, revealing lengths of yellow, pink, and blue fabrics.

Zhu’s brows furrowed as she hesitantly took the clothes from Ting-Ting. “I…was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”

“Why?”

She looked down at the dress, at the blue fabric in particular. Though it was embroidered with white-and-pink flowers, it was quite sheer. This part, she knew, would be the part wrapped around her arms, back, and upper chest. “It’s…not my favorite of the dresses I have.”

“But you look so nice in it!” Mei protested. “The colors suit you _wonderfully_!”

“Mei’s right,” Ting-Ting agreed. “Or is it the ties that you don’t like? I know it can be difficult getting them to rest over the chest correctly…”

Shaking her head, Zhu feigned a small smile. “It’s fine,” she half-lied once more. “I just thought it would look better on you, Ting-Ting. You’re more suited for dresses, after all. Especially ones this nice.”

She dismissively waved her hand. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous! Like Mei said, you look nice in it!” She gave her a reassuring smile. “If you don’t want to wear it tonight, that’s perfectly fine. You have two others to choose from. Which you should do soon, because Mulan and her parents will be here in half an hour.”

“Alright. Thank-you for braiding my hair, Mei.”

She smiled. “And thank _you_ for being able to sit so still.”

Chuckling, Zhu left the room. Once she was out of earshot, she let out a small, defeated sigh. ‘I guess I could wear my red dress,’ she thought. ‘it’s not _quite_ as sheer as this one. Or maybe the black one would be better? No. I don’t want to overheat.’

Passing through the covered walkway, she left the main house and entered the servants’ house. It was very minimalistic in its décor, but that was to be expected; as ‘servants’, they had no wealth to display unlike the residents of the main house. Despite this, Yao had somehow managed to arrange the furniture to give the main room a cozy feel.

As she headed down the hallway, she passed by the open doors of Ling, Yao, and Chien-Po’s rooms. Their rooms, like the rest of the house, were plainly decorated. She was certain the rooms would soon bear more of their resident’s personality, though.

Of the four rooms, hers was the plainest. While Ling had a couple of paintings of women on the walls, hers were bare. Chien-Po had his shelves already filled with scrolls and books, but hers remained empty, save for a thin layer of dust. And while Yao had a dummy set up as an armor stand, she had only a single trunk at the foot of her bed.

‘Hard to decorate a room when your only belongings are weapons and clothes,’ she thought, sliding her door shut. Leaning against the wall, she closed her eyes and sighed. ‘I _really_ don’t want to do this. But who actually _wants_ to meet the person who killed their father?’

She remained against the wall for a few more minutes. Finally, she pulled herself away and, tossing the dress across the foot of her bed, she knelt down in front of her trunk. Upon opening it, she was greeted by the light, sweet smell of wisteria. As she shuffled through the chest’s contents, she found dried petals strewn between the layers of clothes.

‘I wonder how he will react to me,’ she thought, tugging a set of folded red, blue, and black clothes out from the bottom of the trunk. Digging around a bit more, she also pulled out a pair of simple black slippers. ‘Will he express remorse at taking my father and mother from me? I doubt it. He had been sent to retrieve mother, after all. Killing my father had to be done in order to achieve that…’ Shedding her tunic and pants, she pulled on the black undershirt.

‘But it’s not like my father wasn’t able to hurt him in return. From what I understand, Fa Zhou was left with a lame leg.’ She wrapped the blood-red dress around her torso, using a length of black ribbon to tie it into place. ‘Odd that his name is so similar to mine, too…I hope it doesn’t cause any confusion during dinner. Then again, I suppose he’d be addressed with his full name out of respect.’

Taking the blue, pink, and yellow dress, she folded it up and tucked it away in the bottom of her trunk. She then slid on the slippers and wrapped the blue silk scarf around her shoulders. It wasn’t horrible, wearing a dress, but she did wish that she had some pants or even knee-length trousers to wear under it.

‘At least it’s a bit cooler to wear than my usual clothes,’ she told herself.

As she left her room, she was greeted by Yao and Ling coming down the hall, towards their rooms. Both stopped in their tracks, confusion on their faces as they looked at her. Her brows furrowed.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“You’re in a dress,” Ling answered, blinking.

“…Yes?” She felt her cheeks beginning to burn; why would that render them confused? They had seen women in dresses before…

Yao shook his head before giving Ling a nudge with his elbow. “He means it’s weird seein’ _ya_ in one,” he explained. “Since, y’know…” He shrugged. “We’ve never seen ya dressed all girly before.”

Ling nodded in agreement. “Yeah. In fact, we forget you’re a woman most of the time.” He chuckled, an apologetic smile on his face as he shrugged.

“I suppose it’s understandable,” she said. “It was strange seeing _you_ three in dresses for the first time as well. Fake breasts and all, mind you.” Despite her joking tone, her stomach suddenly felt like it had been filled with lead and a strange uneasiness came over her.

Pouting, Ling pointed at her accusingly as he and Yao headed into their rooms. “Hey. I looked _damn_ beautiful in that dress and you know it.”

“I’m sure you would have become the Emperor’s favorite concubine, you were so beautiful,” she replied as they slid their doors shut, a small grin on her lips. The moment the doors were closed, the grin faded from her lips and she let out a quiet sigh.

_‘We’ve never seen ya dressed girly before.’ ‘In fact, we forget you’re a woman most of the time.’_ Why did their words bother her so much? She didn’t care if she looked like a man or like a woman.

At least, she didn’t _used_ to…

Shaking her head, she brushed some stray hairs from her face before stepping outside. She was once again greeted by a pleasant smell; this time, though, it was the smell of dinner. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes for a minute, enjoying the scent and the sounds of the birds in the garden.

She much preferred this garden to the one in the Imperial Palace. It was more open, having a sprawling lawn with trees and flowers growing in small clusters. Like the palace, though, there was a large pond that split the garden in half and, at the far end of the garden, there was a small shrine. Besides a small incense burner hanging from the ceiling, the shrine was empty.

Tonight, the front part of the lawn had been decorated with paper lanterns and large, soft cushions. Two, long tables had been set out, their ends touching so that they formed a single surface. Candles had been placed down the center of the tables, their lemon-like scent driving away any annoying bugs.

Already sitting at the table was her mother. Zhi smiled up at her and beckoned her over. “Wearing your red dress, I see,” she said as Zhu walked over. “A good choice for tonight.”

“Ting-Ting and Mei wanted me to wear the light blue and pink one.” She tucked the fabric under herself as she sat down on her knees.

“Ah, yes…Though it is pretty, I recall its shirt being rather sheer.” Reaching over, she wrapped her arm around Zhu’s shoulders and gave her a small hug. “Perhaps we’ll find you an underdress so you can wear it without worry.”

“There’s no rush. It would only be for special occasions that I would wear a dress, anyway.” She adjusted the scarf; it was so long, it had gotten partially stuck underneath her. “Most of the time, I will be working with horses. Pants are a better choice for that chore.”

Zhi nodded in understanding. “Then we should ask Mei to make you some simpler outfits. Your current clothing is far too…soldier-like for doing daily tasks.”

“That is true.” She finally was able to tame the scarf, managing to get it to lay across her arms evenly. “They would also be too warm for working in the summer. While the heat is not _terrible_ , it’s not _pleasant_ , either.”

Turning, she started to adjust the ribbon holding up Zhu’s skirt. “They are made of wool, after all,” she smiled. “It still surprises me you didn’t overheat during the journey here. Not only did you wear woolen clothing, but you also wore a fur-lined helm and wore a mask over half your face.”

“I’ve grown used to it.” She sat up straighter, making it easier for her mother to redo the ribbons. “When I still lived with the Huns, we did not have different clothes for different seasons.”

“I remember such days. The heavy clothes, though warm, were useful because they kept the mosquitos from biting.” Finishing her work with the ribbons, she smiled. “They stayed even farther away once I told your father and uncle about lemongrass oil.”

Zhu chuckled. “Lemongrass oil was a _blessing_ come summer.” Her gaze falling onto one of the candles, she fell silent.

Zhi let out a soft sigh. “He is looking forward to meeting you, you know,” she said, voice quiet. She watched as Zhu glanced at her from the corner of her eye. “Fa Zhou. Mulan’s told him all about you. How you helped train her, how you protected her…He doesn’t see you as the daughter of Shan Da. He sees you as Zhu, best friend of his daughter.”

“I want to believe you,” she admitted, “I really do. Part of me refuses to do such, though.”

“And I would guess another part of you wishes to spill his blood to avenge your fallen father?” Once more, she wrapped her arm around Zhu’s shoulders. “It’s alright to have conflicting emotions, my little one. It is part of being human, feeling all these different things. But you must remember that only _you_ can decide which emotion to act upon.”

Zhu glanced down at her, a small smile on her lips. She then closed her eyes and lightly shook her head. “How do you always know when to say the right thing?”

A mischievous twinkle came to Zhi’s eye. “I’m a mother, am I not?” she teased. “We mothers _always_ have the right thing to say at the right time.” She glanced over her shoulder as she heard talking. “I do believe our guests are here.” Looking at Zhu, she gave her a reassuring smile. “You’ll do fine, my little one.”

As Zhi rose to her feet, Zhu also stood. Taking a deep breath, she slowly exhaled, calming herself. She followed behind her mother as they made their way to the courtyard. Her sisters were already gathered around Mulan and her family. Zhi headed over as well, speaking words of welcome to their guests.

Fa Zhou, she saw, was vastly different from the soldier Zhu had been picturing all this time. He was tall, though slightly hunched over thanks to resting his weight on a wooden cane. His face was long and he seemed to be balding—or maybe it was one of the shaved styles she had seen in the capital. The silver and black hair he had left was pulled back in a tight bun.

Beside him was a woman of the same age: Fa Li. It was obvious Mulan favored her appearance: Like her daughter, Li was shorter with a round face and a small nose. Her hair was pulled up in a simple, loose bun and her clothing was similar to Mulan’s as well. There were wrinkles in the corners of her eyes and the corners of her mouth, signs that she smiled quite often.

Lastly, there was an even shorter, older woman. Zhu knew this had to be Grandma Fa. Though she was hunched over like her son, she did not need a cane to help her walk. Her face was covered in wrinkles, but the glint in her eye told Zhu that she was as sharp-minded as ever. Her hair, pure white, was pulled back in a low bun and she wore a band of cloth around her forehead to keep any loose strands from falling into her face.

Someone gave her a gentle nudge, startling her out of her thoughts. “C’mon, Zhu,” it was Yao who spoke. “Mulan’s folks don’t bite, but I can’t promise anything about Grandma Fa.” He grinned teasingly up at her before heading over to greet the rest of the Fa family.

Zhu hesitantly moved forward. She watched as Mulan glanced at her before smiling. Coming over to her, Mulan gently took her by the arm and walked with her up to her parents.

“Mother, father, Grandma,” she said, “this is Zhu.”

Her stomach twisting and churning, Zhu bowed. “It is an honor to finally meet you all,” she said, her voice shaking ever so slightly. She stood upright once more, managing to wear a small smile. “Mulan and Shang have told me quite a bit about you.”

The Fa family bowed to her as well. “Mulan has told us much about you as well,” Fa Zhou said. His voice was filled with kindness—a true sort of kindness that she had heard in the Emperor’s voice when he spoke to people _other_ than her. “It is _our_ honor to finally meet the woman she calls ‘best friend’.”

She wasn’t sure why, but the anxiety and anxiousness she had been feeling suddenly left.

Grandma Fa stepped forward. “Now that introductions are out of the way, I can _finally_ ask you a question that’s been burning at the back of my mind.” As she spoke, Zhu saw Zhou close his eyes in embarrassment and Li rest her face in her palm.

“Um…and that would be?” Zhu replied, not sure if she should be amused by the old woman’s behavior or worried by it.

“Can you _really_ lift a horse over your head with ease?” She used her thumb to motion at Mulan. “Mulan says you can, but not even Chien-Po here can lift a horse that high and he’s as strong as a demi-god.” Mulan’s cheeks turned bright red and her eyes widened in horror; clearly, she hadn’t expected her grandmother to say such a thing.

As her sisters and the lieutenants started to giggle and chuckle, Zhu breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, I can,” she grinned. “Would you like to see?”

Grandma’s eyes widened, lit up by a mischievous joy. “Are you _kidding_?! Of _course_ I want to see that!”

Without another word, the two women headed off towards the barn.

“Zhu! You’re going to get your dress dirty!” Mei cried, lifting her skirts and hurrying after them.

Mulan, however, wore a large, proud smile. “I knew those two would get along.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 chapter update because I can.

_Fire. It was all around her. Thick, sulfur-scented smoke filled her lungs. The flames licked at her skin, at her hair, at her clothing. Like the world around her, she was on fire, her skin blackened in places._

_But she felt nothing._

_Bursts of color would randomly explode into being beyond the flames, shimmering against a black sky before fading away. But the fire fought to obscure them from her. She thought she could hear cheering._

_No. She_ knew _she could hear cheering._

_Walking over to a charred balcony, she gazed through the flames at the world below where she found a sea of people. Able to better hear their cries, she found that they were both cheering and chanting. What they were saying, however, was a mystery to her._

_Zhu cried out as something gripped her around the throat. As she was dragged backwards, her hands clawed at whatever it was that choked her. To her horror, bits of her charred skin started to flake off as she struggled to get free._

_What was even worse, though, were the chunks of rotting flesh that she now held._

_“Your struggles are useless, Shan Zhu,” a familiar voice hissed beside her ear._

_She could only choke out a whimper as the person turned her around to face them. Qi glared up at her, his body far more decomposed than when he had haunted her at Moo-Shung. Through rips and tears in his clothing, she could see bits of muscle hanging loosely and parts of his intestines dragging down onto the ground. The hand around her throat, she saw, was nothing more than bone and half the flesh of his face was gone. She thought she could see a worm wriggling within his empty eye socket._

_The sight of him made her stomach churn._

_“It’s not_ fair _,” he snarled, half a rotting lip pulling back in a snarl. “Why do_ you _get a second chance at life?! You have nothing to live for!” As he spoke, his skin cracked and tore near the top of his jaw._

_She tried to speak, but his grip on her throat was too tight._

_“I had_ everything _to live for,” he continued, watching as the pointed ends of his fingerbones started to sink into her burnt flesh. “I had my brother to live for. My friends. My whole_ future _!” With surprising ease, he flung her across the area, watching as she slammed into a pile of fireworks._

_How they hadn’t exploded yet, she didn’t know._

_“How—how many times must I tell you?!” she wheezed, her hand rising to her aching neck. Her eyes widened as she found, to her horror, he had gouged out a large part of her throat. She could feel her torn muscles and arteries flopping about with her every breath. “If I could have exchanged my life for yours, I would have! But it wasn’t my choice!” She shakily got to her feet, her head swimming._

_Qi threw aside the chunk of her throat as he stalked towards her; it turned to ash before it could reach the ground. “You could have stopped her; she would have listened to your pleading. But you didn’t plead and so you get to live again while I rot away in this purgatory. You get to be with your friends and family while I’m stuck here for an eternity!”_

_“Will you just_ shut up _!?” she suddenly cried out. She surprised herself with her outburst, but it had apparently stunned Qi into stopping in his tracks. “For five years, you’ve haunted my memory and my nightmares, but you know what?”_

_He opened his mouth to speak, but she didn’t give him the chance._

_“Your brother forgave me, Qi. Ling_ forgave _me. Yao_ forgave _me. Chien-Po_ forgave _me.” She started to storm over to him, making him take a step back in surprise. There was fear in his remaining eye. “All three of them have forgiven me and remain my friends because they_ know _I’ve changed. They_ know _if I could change things, I would. But I can’t, Qi, and I’ve come to accept that.” Reaching out, she grabbed him by the scruff of his decaying shirt and hoisted him up to her eye level. “Now it’s time for_ you _to accept it and leave me the hell alone!”_

_In an instant, Qi and everything around her vanished. A heavy sigh left her mouth as she was swallowed by blackness. Sinking to her knees, she tiredly rubbed her face; a strange feeling in her gut told her this had all happened before. If it had or hadn’t, she didn’t know._

_Her eyes opened only to find herself suddenly laying on a pile of furs with thick, warm blankets covering her and silken pillows under her head. The air smelled of smoke, sandalwood, and sweat and what little light there was revealed to her that she was inside a yurt._

_Like her interaction with Qi, she was left feeling like she had been here before. Unlike before, however, everything felt_ real _. She ran her fingers through the fur and it felt like real fur. Doing the same to the pillows, she found them as soft and as luxurious as silk should be. She inhaled deeply through her nose, the mixture of smoke and sandalwood leaving a bit of a tickle in their wake._

_She started to push herself upright only to let out a curse as something snaked around her waist, pulling her backwards._

_“Shush,” the familiar voice of a man quietly scolded. He nuzzled against her, resting his chin atop her head. “It is too early to be up.”_

_The voice alone had put her on edge, but when she realized both she and the voice’s owner were completely nude, fear began filling her mind. Swallowing hard, she gathered her courage and yanked herself away from him. She practically flung herself to the edge of the bed, clutching the blankets to her chest._

_She watched as the man’s silhouette rose up, a confused ‘hm’ coming from him. “What’s the matter?” he questioned, his voice shockingly concerned. He started to move towards her, but she kicked out her leg, using it to hold him at bay._

_“D-don’t you dare come any closer!” she growled, trying to keep voice from shaking._

_“Calm yourself, Zhu,” he told her, voice still soft. “Did you have a nightmare? I can make you some tea if you’d like.” He set his hand on her leg, gently pushing it away from him._

_“Shut up, Mundzuc,” she spat, lifting her leg once more. Anger had started to intermingle with her fear; how_ dare _he feign such gentleness after all the times he had threatened to take her life! She still held the blanket to her chest as she scooted just a bit farther back. “Do you honestly believe I’m dumb enough to fall for your little act?” Her free hand slid under the pillows, searching for the knife she knew would be hidden there._

_Her entire body shook. Why wasn’t he threatening her? Or hitting her? He should have at least had a knife to her throat by now._

_Mundzuc paused before quietly and menacingly laughing; there was the Mundzuc she knew. Zhu felt a shudder of fear run down her spine. “The rumors are true, then,” he chuckled. “The great Shan Zhu does live.”_

_She frowned at his words, finding them odd even for a nightmare to say. “Wh-what did you just say?” Her fingertips brushed against cool bone—her knife._

_“I was told you had met a fiery death.” He shoved aside her leg and began crawling towards her. “The entirety of the Imperial City witnessed it. Not a single trace of either you or Shan Yu could be found after the explosion. And yet, here you are…alive and sharing a dream with me.” He stopped, a smirk coming to his lips as he felt the point of a dagger against his throat._

_“_ What _rumors did you hear?” Zhu demanded, doing her best to swallow her fear. “Who told them to you? And what do you mean, ‘sharing a dream’?” Her eyes narrowed. “This is no dream—this is a nightmare.”_

_This had to be nothing more than a dream. Mundzuc couldn’t possibly know she still lived. Only Shang, the Emperor, her mother, and sisters knew. Not even the palace servants knew who she was._

_Zhu wished there was more light. If she could just see his face, then she could search for the tells he gave off when lying. But instead, she was forced to try listening for them—something far more difficult._

_“You haven’t heard them—the rumors?” As he spoke, he began to subtly slide an arm across the furs. “I would have thought you had, being that they’re about_ you _, after all.” Raising his hand, he slowly trailed his fingers along the side of her leg; he was almost surprised she didn’t thrust the dagger into his throat. “Rumors of a shadow that watches over the palace and its residents.” He could feel the dagger beginning to shake against his throat when he dared to run his hand up to her hips. “Rumors of the swift and silent assassin claiming the lives of those who oppose the Emperor’s rule and wish to usurp him.”_

_Zhu gasped when Mundzuc knocked her arm aside and pulled her forward. Before she could yell, he set a hand on the back of her head and gripped her hair as he leaned in close to her._

_“And who could forget the rumors that the last queen—_ my _queen—of the Huns still walks the earth?” he whispered beside her ear. He quietly chuckled. “But I thought them all too good to be true.”_

_“I am not_ your _queen,” she hissed, trying to free her arm. Normally, she could have easily overpowered him, but Mundzuc was somehow stronger than her. “I will_ never _be your queen.” She clenched her eyes shut, feeling him starting to trail his lips along the side of her neck. “And if you don’t let go of me, I will wrench your still-beating heart from your chest!’_

_“After all these years, you still long for my heart? How_ romantic _of you,” he taunted. He slowly slid his hand down her spine, letting his nails gently scrape her skin; as he did so, she arched her back and inhaled sharply. “Of course, you know well enough that I would be more than willing to let you have it. I am just as much yours as you are_ mine _, after all.”_

_“Let go of my wrist and I will make sure you get to watch its dying beats,” she growled. It was taking all her willpower to not give in to him. After all these years, he remembered her weaknesses…_

_She hated that she was starting to enjoy this._

_His brow rose in slight irritation. With a quick push from his hand, he sent the dagger flying from her grip; it landed on the floor across the yurt. “For one so observant,” he blandly told her as he gripped her hair once more, “you_ truly _excel at missing the obvious.”_

_“We all have our faults,” she snarled. She tried to wrench her head forward to headbutt him, but she couldn’t escape his grip. “Yours just so happens to be the fault of ex—” Her eyes widened as Mundzuc silenced her with a kiss._

_A kiss that she couldn’t stop herself from melting into._

_It wasn’t the first kiss they had shared; the others had been just as fueled by hate and by anger. As Mundzuc gripped her waist, she couldn’t help but remember nights from nearly ten years ago—nights when they were supposed to have been hunting down some enemy or another of Shan Yu’s. It had always started with them arguing, but the arguing led to taunting and the taunting led to challenges._

_Challenges they were both too stubborn to refuse. Challenges that both had enjoyed, though they dared not let the other know. Challenges that now left Zhu_ yearning _for the feel of Mundzuc’s mouth on hers. For the feel of his breath against her neck. For the feel of his body pressed against hers._

_His grip on her wrist and hair loosened. She whined softly, hating herself as she begged for more of him. He complied, pulling the blanket out from between them and pinning her against the bed with his body. A smirk came to his lips as she wrapped her legs around his hips and whimpered his name against his lips. He moved his lips away from hers, instead resting them near her ear as he started to whisper._

_“Look at how easily you gave in to me, how readily your body surrendered to my touch. It knows you’re_ mine _, Shan Zhu._ Mine _.” He slid a hand under her shoulders, lifting her up and starting to kiss down her throat. “Whether you like it or not, you know it to be true…after all, no self-respecting Chinese man or woman would_ ever _fall for a Hun, let alone the Hun_ queen _.”_

 

Crying out, Zhu shot upright in her bed, her eyes wide and heart racing. She looked around and found herself in her room—her _real_ room. The scents of cherry blossoms and wisteria filled her nose, bringing just a bit of ease to her mind. What calmed her the most, however, was hearing the faint sounds of the lieutenants as they slept.

She was home.

_Not_ in a yurt and _not_ with Mundzuc laying atop her.

Clenching her eyes shut, she brought her knees up and rested her elbows on them. “It was just a nightmare,” she whispered. “ _Just_ a nightmare. Nothing more.” She rubbed her face and found it damp with tears. Frowning, she started to realize that her neck was stinging. She felt along it only to feel it to also be damp—but not with tears. It was covered in something thick and somewhat sticky.

Blood. And it was in the area where Qi had gouged her throat.

Her brows furrowing, she slid from her bed. Before grabbing her nearly-dead lantern, she listened to the sounds of her friends only to find that they still slept; good, she thought. She hadn’t woken them.

With lantern in hand, she crept from her room and down the hall to the kitchen. She set it on the counter before grabbing a small bowl and cloth, using water from a bucket to fill the former. Dipping the cloth in the water, she made sure it was thoroughly saturated before wringing most of the water out.

She hissed in pain and clenched her eyes shut as she started to clean her neck. Though it was just water she used, it still stung like medicine.

_‘The rumors are true, then. The great Shan Zhu does live.’_

 ‘In the morning, I’ll ask Chien-Po to make me one of those paper talismans,’ she thought, her nose scrunching up as she continued to clean her neck. ‘The last thing I need right now is to start having _those_ kind of nightmares…I can handle Qi constantly killing me or seeing my uncle’s charred corpse. But Mundzuc…?’

_‘It knows you’re mine, Shan Zhu._ Mine _. Whether you like it or not, you know it to be true.’_

She used her sleeve to gently pat her neck dry. Taking the bowl, she went outside and tossed its dirtied contents onto the ground. The night, like the day had been, was almost uncomfortably warm. A sigh left her mouth as she let herself fall back against the plaster wall of the house. Though she felt exhausted, she didn’t—no, she _couldn’t_ —go back to bed yet.

Taking a deep breath, she did her best to focus her mind on the scents and sounds around her. Thanks to a lack of rains recently, the air smelled heavily of dust and various flowers. Hundreds of crickets, hidden in the tall grass, serenaded the night with their chirping. Her hand unconsciously rose to her neck, feeling for the wounds.

There were five of them: Four on the left and one on the right. They were small, barely as wide as a finger. The soreness they held, though, made them feel much larger. She knew her whole throat would be bruised come morning.

But had she been the one to leave those marks? Or, like times before, had they come from her nightmare?

She heard the creak of a door hinge. “Zhu? Is everything alright?”

Opening her eyes, she looked over to see Ling standing in the doorway. His hair was messy from tossing and turning all night and he didn’t wear a shirt; she couldn’t blame him. If she hadn’t miraculously grown breasts over the last few years—as small as they were—she, too, would be shirtless.

“You should be sleeping,” she told him, purposefully not answering his inquiry.

He frowned as he used the heel of his palm to rub one of his eyes. “It’s too hot to sleep,” he told her. “That, and I heard you shout a bit ago. I went to check on you, but you weren’t in your room.” He pressed his free hand against the wall only to quickly press the front half of his body against it, groaning in relief. Cooler than the air, it provided a momentary reprieve from the heat.

“Just a nightmare,” she told him, brow rising as she watched him. She quietly laughed; he looked ridiculous. “Nothing more.”

Ling, however, found no humor in the situation. Lifting his head off the wall, he stared at her, concerned. “You’re kidding, right?”

Her brow rose in confusion. “No? You know that humor is not my forte.”

Shaking his head, he pulled himself entirely from the wall. “That’s not what I mean and you know it,” he retorted. “Are you _really_ having nightmares again?”

“They…never really went away,” she admitted, looking away from him. As badly as she wanted to, she couldn’t lie to him. Not anymore. “I merely grew used to them.”

“Until tonight?”

“Until tonight…but that is only because this one was different.” She sighed and tilted her head back against the wall. “It is nothing to worry about. When morning comes, I am going to ask Chien-Po to make me a paper talisman like the one he made for me in Moo-Shung.”

Ling still wore a frown, not convinced. “Zhu, it’s not normal to have so many nightmares. Once in a while? Yeah, that’s fine. But you seem to have them every night…” Rubbing the back of his neck, he leaned back against the wall. “Have you thought about maybe visiting a temple and seeing if there’s anything the monks can do for you?”

“I have tried. Mother insisted I visit one as soon as I recovered from—from the explosion. But despite everything they tried, the monks were unable to help. I’ve had too much trauma in my life, they told me.” She shrugged. “They offered to teach me ways to meditate so I could try sending myself into a dreamless sort of sleep, but I declined.”

He rubbed the side of his neck. “I’m sorry.”

_‘…After all, no self-respecting Chinese man or woman would_ ever _fall for a Hun, let alone their queen.’_

“Don’t be. As I have said, I have grown used to them.” She gave him a small smile. Her stomach, however, churned as Mundzuc’s words flowed through her mind once more.

He returned the smile, though his was more sorrowful than assuring. “You know, I’ve heard that telling people your nightmares can actually help stop them.”

“It sounds like an interesting possibility, but…I would not want to worry anyone.”

“It’s too late for that,” he said, voice as dry as the air. Sighing, he reached over and set his hand on her shoulder. He frowned when he felt her flinch. “Zhu, you’re surrounded by no one but friends and family now—and we’re _not_ going to judge you if you need to ask for help. You don’t always have to be the big, tough Hun anymore, okay? You’re _human_. You’re allowed to have your moments of weakness.”

_‘For one so observant, you_ truly _excel at missing the obvious.’_

She glanced at his hand, though she said nothing. Her eyes began to sting as they filled with tears and something inside her knotted up. The knot, in addition to the churning of her stomach, made it a bit difficult to breath. She did her best to fight back the tears; she didn’t even know _why_ she wanted to cry.

She must not have hidden her emotions well enough, because Zhu soon found herself sobbing into Ling’s shoulder as he hugged her. He said nothing, only gently rubbing her back as he let her cry. He couldn’t help but frown, though, when he felt seemingly dozens of bumps and ridges instead of smooth skin.

Truthfully, he hadn’t expected her to have this sort of reaction to his words, but he had clearly said something she had needed to hear. He wondered what kind of nightmare it was that could leave her like _this_ —before, back at Moo-Shung, her nightmares had only left her quiet and thoughtful.

Or maybe it had only seemed that way because she had been hiding the truth?

“I’m sorry,” she sniffled after some minutes. She pulled back from him, using her sleeve to wipe her face. “I do not—I do not know why I started crying.”

He smiled reassuringly at her. “Don’t worry about it. Sometimes, you just need to cry, even if you don’t know why.”

A small smile appeared on her lips as she continued to wipe her face. “Ting-Ting has said the same thing,” she quietly chuckled. “But I wasn’t the one crying at the time.”

“Well, she’s right,” he assured her. “A lot of people think crying is for wussies, but it’s really not. If anything, people who _don’t_ cry are the wussies.”

Her brow rose, a bit of amusement in her eyes. “How so?”

He shrugged. “Well, a lot of times when people say they don’t cry, it’s because they’re just forcing themselves to ignore their own feelings. They think being tough and stoic is the key to being strong.”

“…When, in fact, it will only lead to their eventual break down being far worse than if they _had_ allowed themselves to feel the pain and sorrow.”

“I take it you know that one well, then.”

She nodded. “My uncle and the elite taught me to only feel anger, hatred, and pride.” Sighing, she leaned against the wall once more. “And now, after half my life has already passed, I’m having to learn all the different feelings that being human entails.”

Ling gave her a gentle nudge. “You’re learning well, though.”

Zhu felt her cheeks grow a bit warm. “Only because I have wonderful teachers.”

“Yeah, Mulan and Shang are pretty good teachers, aren’t they?” he joked.

“Ha, _ha_.” Rolling her eyes, she smiled and shook her head. “You should probably get back to bed…Su is going to work you to exhaustion tomorrow.”

“At least gardening isn’t nearly as bad as running through a barrage of lit arrows or jogging ten miles.” He started to head for the door. “You should probably head back to bed, too, you know.”

She nodded. “I will. I just—I just need a few more minutes.”

“Alright.” He then pointed a scolding finger at her. “But if you’re not back in bed within ten minutes, I’m coming out here and dragging you back to your bedroom.”

“Like you could move me,” she snorted.

He pouted playfully. “I may not be as strong as you or Yao or Chien-Po, but I can at _least_ carry an average-sized human if need be.”

“I am _not_ an average-sized human.”

“Which is why I would be _dragging_ you,” he grinned. “But, seriously. Don’t stay out here too much longer, okay? You need rest just as much as the rest of us.”

“I won’t, I promise.” She watched as Ling disappeared back into the house. Letting out a small sigh, she looked up at the sky. “I just hope my nightmares are done for the night…”

 

~*~

 

“What in the world happened to your neck, child!?”

Zhu winced as her mother forced her to tilt her head back. “It happened while I slept,” she said, her nose scrunching up. “I have already cleaned it.”

“Not well enough! There’s still dried blood all over your neck,” Zhi scolded, releasing her chin. “Su, darling, fetch me the clove water.”

From the corner of her eye, Zhu watched as Su hurried out of the living room. “They must have reopened while I slept.”

Ting-Ting worriedly nibbled her finger as she stood behind her mother, looking at Zhu’s neck. Five, large black-and-blue bruises took up the majority of the skin, broken only by small, thin lines of dried blood. “How did you manage to do this to yourself?” she questioned. “It almost looks like you had tried to rip out your own throat…”

“Don’t say that!” Mei squeaked. Unlike Ting-Ting, she stood behind Zhu, her hands firmly planted on her shoulders to keep her from getting out of the chair.

“It’s true, though!” Ting-Ting argued. “Doesn’t it look that way, mother?”

Zhi sighed, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “It does,” she agreed.

“I had a nightmare,” Zhu told them, a bit of irritation in her voice. She _had_ tried to keep her neck hidden by wearing a scarf over her hair and neck—as a way to keep the sun from her face, she had told them, since she would be outside most of that day. But when Mei insisted on fixing the scarf so it sat more evenly, the truth had been literally uncovered. “In it, my throat got gouged out. I…guess I must have acted it out while I slept without knowing.”

“How can you _not_ know you’re trying to tear your own throat!?” Mei scolded. “Especially with your strength!” She then shuddered. “Thank the gods you woke before any worse damage could have been dealt.”

Zhi shook her head. “What’s important is that she _didn’t_ deal worse damage. Ah, thank you, Su.” Taking the bowl and cloth from her youngest, she started to dab at Zhu’s throat.

“At least I know who to go to if I ever need some meat tenderized?” Su said with a nervous chuckle, trying to liven the mood. “From the looks of it, Zhu could make it so even the toughest meats would melt in your mouth!”

At that, Zhu laughed, taking the others by surprise. “I think you would rather have Yao for that,” she smiled. “His knuckles would be better for the job.” A hiss of pain left her mouth as the small cuts started to sting something awful.

Mei frowned. “How can the two of you joke about this? Zhu could have killed herself!” She finally let go of Zhu’s shoulders so she could put her hands on her hips.

“But she _didn’t_ ,” Su pointed out, also frowning. “So, she choked herself while she slept. Clearly, she doesn’t think it’s as big of a deal as you guys think it is.”

“I have survived worse self-inflicted wounds,” Zhu admitted with a shrug. Her brows then furrowed. “I have survived _most_ of them, at least.”

“But that—”

“Mei,” Zhi interjected, “go work on your sewing. Su, your gardening. Ting-Ting, you will help me with the bandages.”

Mei and Su wore looks of guilt as they half-bowed to their mother before leaving the room. Ting-Ting, meanwhile, went and fetched the roll of bandages.

“I want you to go to a temple,” Zhi told Zhu, her voice quiet and motherly. She gently wiped away a drop of fresh blood before it could roll down her neck. “This isn’t the first time your nightmares left you injured upon waking. I will _not_ have it happen again.”

Closing her eyes, Zhu gripped the hem of her shirt. “I am _not_ going to a temple. You know as well as I that the monks won’t be able to do anything other than offer prayers and meditations.” She started to slightly jiggle her leg in an antsy fashion.

“They could have some sort of medicine that lets you have a dreamless sleep,” Ting-Ting suggested. “After all, the temple here is different from the ones back home.”

“Ting-Ting is right,” Zhi agreed. “It will not hurt you to visit the local temple.”

“I’m not going,” Zhu said adamantly. “Chien-Po can make me a paper talisman that will keep the nightmares at bay. He made one for me when we were in Moo-Shung and it worked wonders.”

Zhi’s brow rose, unconvinced. “While I trust in Chien-Po’s ability to make such a talisman, I would still like you to visit the temple.” Leaning back, she sighed and dropped the dirtied cloth into the clove water. “Who knows? Maybe you need an exorcism performed on yourself.” She watched as Ting-Ting started to carefully wrap Zhu’s neck.

“An exorcism?” repeated Ting-Ting. “Isn’t that…a bit extreme, mother? I highly doubt Zhu is possessed.”

“By some evil, at least,” Zhu grumbled. By now, both her legs were jiggling. “I am, however, definitely possessed by the need to visit the latrine…”

Ting-Ting couldn’t help but snort, though Zhi wore a rather unhappy expression. “You have most certainly inherited your father’s stubbornness…” she mumbled, rubbing her temple. “A frustrating trait, I assure you.”

“I do not doubt it.” She looked over at her sister. “I don’t mean to rush you, but are you almost done? I _really_ do not want to wet myself right now.”

Making quick work of finishing, Ting-Ting stepped back. “There. Now hurry off before you leave a puddle.”

Zhu practically bolted from the room. She did not, however, go to the latrine, as she didn’t actually have to relieve herself; she had only wanted to get away. Rubbing her face, she looked around to make sure the lieutenants weren’t around; the last thing she wanted was to have them fretting over her, too.

‘I dearly love my mother and sisters,’ she thought, heading to the barn, ‘but I wish they could understand that this _isn’t_ something that some monks can magically fix for the rest of my life…’ Sighing, she started to shove open one of the barn doors. ‘On top of the feeling of being overwhelmed when they flock around me like that. I know they just want to help. But I’m still not used to being cared about…’

As she entered the barn, she was greeted by cheerful nickers from Umut, her mother’s horse, and Ling’s horse. A small smile came to her lips and she went to each of them in turn, rubbing their necks and gently scratching under their chins. When she reached Umut, she gently pressed her forehead to Umut’s forehead and felt a wave of calm sweep over her.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “I needed that.”

Umut nuzzled her cheek before blowing. Lowering her head, she reached over the door to her stall and used her mouth to pull open the latch. When the door swung open, she started to leave her stall.

“Hey, now,” Zhu said, brow rising. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” This wasn’t the first time Umut had ‘escaped’ her stall, but it _was_ the first time Zhu had seen her do it. “Or rather, where do you think you’re going? I have not fed or brushed you yet!”

Umut teasingly whinnied before flicking Zhu in the face with her tail. She continued to head for the barn door.

“Fine, then. Go out to pasture without the others.” She dismissively waved her hand at the mare’s disappearing backside. “But do not come roaring back to me if your stall isn’t mucked out later.” Despite her words, she wore a small smile and her tone was one of amusement. Shaking her head, she headed to the back of the barn where the feed and tools were.

“Umut being a brat again, I take it?”

Zhu blinked and looked over her shoulder. Ting-Ting was walking towards her, her brow raised and a knowing smile on her lips. “Just a bit.”

She nodded before leaning against one of the support posts. “You didn’t really have to relieve yourself, did you?” She watched as her sister lifted the lid on an enormous stone container.

“Was my acting that bad?” Grabbing a small shovel, she started to scoop the contents of the container into a smaller bucket.

“Quite the opposite, actually. You were very convincing.” She walked forward, grabbing a second empty bucket and setting it on the ground. “But I know how uncomfortable you get when that much attention is focused on you or when mother is trying to pressure you into doing something.”

She started filling a second bucket. “I know she wishes I would go to a temple, but I _also_ know it would not be of any help.” Once the first bucket was full, she began filling the second one. “Chien-Po, however, I _know_ can help me. He has done it before and I am sure he can do it again.”

“Will you at least tell me what your nightmare was?”

Zhu let out a heavy sigh, saying nothing as she filled the second bucket. As she closed the feed container and set aside the shovel, she could feel Ting-Ting’s gaze on her. “I had two,” she finally answered, her voice quiet. “It was the first that left the marks, but the second one was the one that frightened me.” She leaned against the wall, her hands behind her back.

Ting-Ting remained silent. Hopping up onto the closed feed container, she patiently waited for her sister to continue.

“The first dream is one I have had many times,” Zhu started. “Or, rather, I have had variations of it. Ling’s twin brother, Qi, haunts me.”

She frowned. “I wasn’t aware he had a twin. He has never spoken of him.”

She nodded. “That’s because I…killed him. Before I went to Moo-Shung. There had been two Imperial Scouts that had found my uncle’s army. The older of the two was sent running back to your father with a message. Qi, though, was closer to me in size, so after interrogating him, my uncle took his clothing to be my disguise.

“I—I don’t know if he had truly meant for Qi to go free, but he let him start running. But someone shot him with an arrow. It was a fatal shot, but one that would take days to kill him.” Closing her eyes, she sighed again. “I took pity on him when the others started jeering at him and I delivered the death blow.”

“So why would he haunt you if you ended his misery?”

“Because I did just that. I ended his life. I made it so he would never see his friends and his brother again. And then, I had the audacity to wear his clothes and his armor…all the while becoming friends with his brother.”

Pulling a hand out from behind her, she rubbed her face. Her eyes stung, but she forced herself to not cry. “Ever since I learned who he was, I’ll have occasional nightmares where his rotting corpse tries to kill me as revenge. Every time it happens, I wake up with _some_ sort of injury. Usually, they are more minor than this…”

“Have you told Ling about these?” She felt a shudder run down her spine as Zhu looked up at her, a dark look on her face.

“No. And I _never_ will.” Again, she rubbed her face before tucking her hand back behind her. “I have hurt him enough already…and I am positive that it isn’t the _real_ Qi haunting me. Just—just some sort of vindictive figment of my imagination.”

Ting-Ting nodded. “A manifestation of your guilt, maybe. But—but how would it be able to leave actual injuries on you?”

Zhu shrugged. “When I did go to the temples, the monks told me that there have been instances of people receiving injuries in their dreams that transfer to their actual bodies, but in milder fashions. Being that I had had my throat literally ripped out in the nightmare…”

Scrunching her nose up, Ting-Ting stuck her tongue out in disgust. “The cuts and bruises are much more preferable.” Tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, she adjusted her sitting position. “What of the second nightmare?”

Fear now came to Zhu’s eyes, though the rest of her face remained stoic. “I…woke up beside Mundzuc.”

Her eyes widened, but she kept her mouth clamped shut.

“At first, he acted as if I was his—what is a good term? Sweetheart? Lover? He was kind and gentle, so I guess either of those would work. But when I called him out on his act, he started being himself again.” She glanced away from her sister, cheeks darkening in shame. “He…managed to seduce me. He remembered my weaknesses from the few times we—the few times we had had sex.” Daring to steal a peek at her sister, she found her face filled with horror. “No, he had never forced it on me. I had always been willing.”

Ting-Ting made a quiet ‘hm’ sound. She had heard of Mundzuc and how much he frightened her sister—her sister who had fought in countless battles and even freely sent herself to death. And now, hearing that she had once been this man’s lover…? She wondered what it was that made her so scared of him.

As if reading her thoughts, Zhu closed her eyes. “The part that made it a nightmare was how much I had enjoyed it,” she told her, voice barely a whisper, “and how easily I had given in to him. I _hate_ him, Ting-Ting, and I’m terrified of him. I have seen—” She paused, taking a deep breath to calm herself. “I have seen him do things to his victims that made even _Shan Yu_ recoil in horror. If my uncle needed information from someone who refused to speak, he left them to Mundzuc.”

A shiver ran down Ting-Ting’s spine. “He certainly sounds unpleasant,” she murmured. “Come here.”

Not bothering to ask why, Zhu went over to her sister only to get wrapped up in her arms. She swallowed hard and hugged her in return. “I know it was just a dream,” she murmured, “but it felt so real. _Everything_ about it felt real. The smell of the air, the feel of the blankets and the furs…” She shook her head against Ting-Ting’s shoulder. “The dream even spoke _exactly_ as Mundzuc would.”

“Would the real Mundzuc act like that towards you in present times?”

“Truthfully, I…I don’t know. I do not think so. One of the last times I saw him, he left me with a split lip.”

“Then you must remember that he, too, is nothing more than a figment of your imagination,” Ting-Ting told her, voice soft. “And you must also remember that dreams are _not_ reality. You may have given in to him in the dream, but if you were to come across him in the waking world? You may act in a totally different fashion. We’re not ourselves when we dream.”

Zhu slowly nodded. She was grateful for Ting-Ting’s presence; as much as she loved her mother and other sisters, Ting-Ting was the one she felt most comfortable with when it came to discussing anything worrying or angering. It was like she was talking with Mulan: She didn’t have to worry about being judged or being made fun of. And it helped that she also didn’t constantly interrupt her with questions that left her feeling overwhelmed.

“Thank-you,” she murmured, voice muffled by her sister’s shoulder. “Between you and Ling, I am feeling a lot better.”

Ting-Ting glanced down at her, a brow raised. “What did Ling do?”

Zhu’s cheeks turned dark again. “He told me it was alright to cry,” she admitted, “and that I was surrounded by friends and family and that I wouldn’t have to worry about being judged if I needed help.”

“He’s right, you know.”

She nodded. “I know. And I _did_ already know, but…I guess hearing it actually said to me made me believe it just a bit more.”

Tilting her head, Ting-Ting frowned. “You don’t wholly believe it?”

“There are a lot of things I do not yet wholly believe, but only because I’m still getting use to this new life.” A tired smile appeared on her lips. “Like I told him last night, I spent half my lifespan living and thinking as a Hun warrior. Now I’m spending the other half learning to be human.”

Ting-Ting gave her another hug, squeezing her just a bit. “And you’re learning well, big sister.”

“Thank you, little sister.”

 


	14. Chapter 14

“Oh, no ya don’t, ya filthy, smelly animals—hey! Get back here!”

“Maybe if you were nicer to them, they’d actually listen to you?”

“An’ maybe if ya weren’t over there, tryin’ t’ pose for the girls, we’d have all this sod broken by now.”

Ling pouted, his brow rising as he watched Yao sprint after his pair of oxen. “I am _not_ trying to pose!” he argued. Unlike Yao’s pair, his were behaving perfectly; they turned when he wanted them to and they stopped when he wanted them to. Their only fault was that they seemed to be a bit on the gassy side. “And I’m already almost done with half of my side of the field!”

Flinging himself forward, Yao managed to _just_ grab the tethers for his pair. He grunted as he scrambled to his feet before digging his heels into the earth in an attempt to slow the oxen. As strong as he was, it was an impossible task—it would take Chien-Po or Zhu’s strength to halt them.

A sharp whistle sounded, startling the two humans.

Both pairs of oxen suddenly came to a complete stop.

Ling and Yao turned only to find Mei and Ting-Ting walking down from the house. Which one of them it had been who had whistled, they didn’t know. As the princesses came closer, however, they saw that they each had a basket tucked into the crook of her arm. Both also wore wide hats, shielding their faces from the summer sun.

“The oxen being a bit difficult, are they?” Mei questioned, a pitying smile on her lips. “I’ve noticed they have a tendency to freeze up with sharp noises, if that helps you any.” The two lieutenants then realized it had been her who had whistled and _not_ an especially loud bird like they had wondered.

Yao was thankful his face was already red from the heat. “Ju-Just a lil’ bit,” he grinned, seeming to stand up straighter. “Guess they’re not use t’ farm life just yet.”

“We _can_ switch, you know,” Ling told him, leaning against one of his oxen. “My pair are perfectly behaved.”

“ _Until_ you said that,” Mei giggled. “They’ll start acting up now that you’ve said something.”

He shrugged, a playful grin on his lips. “Probably. Nothin’ I can’t handle, though.”

Yao frowned the slightest bit at Ling. “What brings ya two down here?” he asked the women, looking away from Ling. “Makin’ sure we’re not dyin’ o’ heat exhaustion yet?”

“That is _one_ reason,” Ting-Ting smiled. Removing the basket from her arm, she held it out to Ling. “Chien-Po and Su sent us down with your lunches.”

“And we’ve a message from Mulan and Zhu,” Mei added, handing Yao his basket. “They said that, _if_ you have the energy tonight, they’d love some help getting the new horses stabled up.”

“But that is _only_ if you’re not worn out from breaking all this sod,” Ting-Ting emphasized. She looked out across the barren field. In total, little under half the sod had been broken—not bad, considering they had been working since that morning.

Yao peeked inside the basket at his lunch. He was greeted by sweet-smelling steam and the sight of various types of dumplings. “With a lunch like this, we’ll have all the energy in the world!” he grinned.

Ling looked inside his basket. He was greeted by the scent and sight of roasted meat and warm bread. “No kidding! They packed enough in here for five people!”

The women giggled. “That _is_ Su for you,” Mei said. “She doesn’t want _anyone_ going hungry.”

“With this much food, we ain’t goin’ t’ go hungry for a _week_ ,” Yao chuckled. “Thanks for bringin’ these down for us, by the way.”

Ling nodded in agreement. “And tell the cooks thank-you, too, please.”

“Will do,” Ting-Ting smiled. “Enjoy your lunches and try not to get too overheated. There’s no shame in quitting early if it means you won’t be cooked to a crisp.”

Yao dismissively waved his hand, a cocky grin on his face. “Ah, we’ll survive just fine. Plowin’ a field is _easy_ compared t’ the all the military trainin’ we’re used t’ doin’ in this weather.”

Mei giggled again. “I would imagine! Shang can be quite the tyrant when it comes to training his men. We’ve seen the way he handles new recruits.”

“And it is not in a kind fashion,” Ting-Ting added with a chuckle. She then glanced over her shoulder as she heard their mother call out their names. “We best head back in. We need to eat our own lunches before going to town with mother.”

Ling cocked his head. “What’s in town that she needs you for?”

Mei perked, smiling broadly. “Dress shopping!” she answered. “She wants us to get some clothing that isn’t as fine as our usual clothes. You know, to help us blend in a bit more.”

“Makes sense,” Yao nodded. “Also give _ya_ the chance t’ study the way the folks here make their cloth, too.”

“That’s right!” she chirped, cheeks turning pink. “And maybe even see what sorts of ingredients goes into their dyes.”

Zhi called for them again and Ting-Ting set her hand on Mei’s shoulder. “Come on, Mei. The sooner we get back, the sooner you can go pester the local seamstresses,” she gently teased. As she started to guide her sister away, she looked over her shoulder and gave the two lieutenants a small farewell wave.

A wistful sigh left Yao’s mouth and, as Ling saw when he looked down, he slouched forward slightly. He was quite clearly watching the princesses—no, just _one_ of the princesses, Ling noticed—retreat back up the hill.

“Isn’t she adorable?” he sighed. “The way she gets so excited ‘bout somethin’ as simple as clothin’ dye…”

Ling cocked his brow, grinning. “Ooh, looks like _somebody’s_ in love,” he teased, giving Yao a nudge. He then looked back over at the oxen as they headed over to a patch of unturned grass to graze.

Yao lightly smacked his hand away. “It ain’t love—not yet, at least. It’s just a crush.” With his basket in hand, he started walking towards the row of trees that lined the field. “Unlike some folks, I _know_ when it’s just a crush an’ not full-blown love.”

“If you say so,” he laughed, “but you seemed pretty enamored by her just now.”

His cheeks still red, he sat down with a huff. “An’ is that a crime?” he protested. “You’re pretty fond o’ Ting-Ting an’ ya don’t see me pokin’ fun at _you_ ‘bout it.” He sighed, thankful for the shady reprieve the tree gave them. “Anyway, it’s not like I’d ever be able t’ woo her. She’s so far above my rank, it ain’t funny. An’ if I _did_ try t’ flirt, the Emperor would tan my hide.”

Ling sighed. “Yeah…That’s why I’ve been keeping my flirting to a minimum,” he agreed. “But Ting-Ting’s just so—so _smart_! And she’s so funny and that giggle-snorting laugh of hers is just so cute…Do you know how hard it is to _not_ flirt with her!?” A defeated look on his face, he opened his basket and pulled out a random bit of meat.

“Probably as hard as it for me t’ not be flirtin’ with Mei.” Leaning back against the tree, he shoved an entire dumpling into his mouth. “She’s so passionate ‘bout her seamstress work, though, I’d doubt she’d notice if I was flirtin’.”

“Yeah…I don’t think Ting-Ting’s noticed my flirtations, either.” He took a bite of the meat and slowly chewed it. “Dumpling for a roast chicken leg?”

“Roast chicken leg is worth two dumplings. Hand it over.” Twisting round, he held the steamer out to Ling, who plucked two dumplings from it. In their place, he left a fat, roasted leg of chicken.

Taking a bite of one of the dumplings, Ling found it to be filled with minced pork, mushrooms, and green onions. As he chewed, his mind wandered back to Ting-Ting. He had managed to make her cry with laughter just a few days ago—completely by accident, but the feeling of elation it had given him had been worth the bruised kneecap.

Yao’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. “Hey, Ling?”

“Hmm?” He took a bite of the second dumpling.

“Say the girls _weren’t_ princesses. Say they were normal women like Mulan…” He looked over the chicken leg, picking away a bit of cartilage. “Do ya think we’d stand a chance at wooin’ them then?”

Ling cocked a brow. “I wouldn’t really call Mulan _normal_ ,” he said.

“Well, y’know what I mean. Aside from the whole bein’ the Savior o’ China bit, she’s a normal woman.”

He shrugged. “To be honest, I’m not…entirely sure. Maybe there would be a slim chance. I think Chien-Po’s already got Su wooed, though. You almost can’t separate them at times!” He chuckled before frowning somewhat. Sticking out his tongue, he removed a small shard of bone from it.

“T’ be fair, they _are_ the most alike.”

“Yeah, they are…I don’t really know if I have anything in common with Ting-Ting aside from a love of humor.”

“Well, not all couples have t’ match up _perfectly_ , y’know,” Yao said. “Take the Emperor an’ Zhi: The Emperor can be stern, but he’s also selfless. Zhi is laxer an’ is a bit more selfish—an’ I don’t mean that in a mean way. She’s selfish in a way that’s beneficial t’ her daughters.” He let out a sigh and tilted his head back.

“No, you’re totally right,” Ling agreed. “It seems like if she hadn’t been around, then the princesses would have been even more sheltered than what they already were.”

Yao nodded, tossing aside the finished chicken bone in favor of another dumpling. “Well, at least now, they’re gettin’ some freedoms.” He sighed. “An’ with luck, these crushes o’ ours will go away after a while…”

“Yeah…it would stink to fall completely in love with someone only to remember that you can never be with them…”

 

 

~*~

 

“I like this one’s temperament. She is extremely calm and gentle, especially for one who is still so young. Ning, did the owner say her name was?”

“Yes, Ning. And she’s got a very pretty coat color! Look how shiny it is; I think Mei would love her.”

Zhu nodded in agreement, a small smile on her lips as she ran her hand down the mare’s neck. “I agree. Too bad Ling has a gelding; they would have made beautiful foals.”

Mulan shrugged. “There’s always Khan. Or, when Shang comes back for a visit, Jiang.”

“No, no. They are quite a bit larger than her. I would worry the foal would be too big for her to carry.” She gave the mare a gentle scratch under the chin before moving on to the next horse. “Ah, now here’s a big, lovely girl.”

Looking up— _way_ up—Mulan found herself staring into the large, brown eyes of a female draft horse. She was gray in color with dappled spots of black. “She’s pretty, too!” she smiled.

“She’d be good for pulling carts, so long as she has the proper temperament.” Crouching down, she lifted one of the mare’s hooves, inspecting it. “Good, healthy hooves…Fairly good temperament, too, if she’s letting me lift her leg like this.”

Mulan reached up and pulled back the horse’s lips, showing off nice, pink gums. “Healthy teeth and gums. She’s between ten and fifteen years old.”

Standing upright, Zhu nodded. “Let’s see how her temperament is when being ridden.”

“Alright.” She turned away from Zhu, looking across the barn to the owner of the breeding stables. Making a hand signal to him, she let him know that Zhu was going to try out the mare.

“That one’s name is Xia,” the breeder called over. “She can be a bit ornery with inexperienced riders.”

“Note taken,” Zhu said, hopping up onto Xia’s back. “I will be back.”

As Zhu rode out of the barn, the breeder came over to Mulan. “So, Mulan, you say that all these horses are for your aunt, her daughters, and their _servants_?”

She nodded. “Yes,” she answered, smiling. “My aunt and cousins love to ride, but my aunt doesn’t want her daughters riding off on their own since they don’t know the area very well just yet. So, she’s having us buy some horses for the servants as well.”

“Makes sense.” He then nodded his head towards the barn door. “I take it he’s one of your cousins, too? Or is he a servant? Can’t really tell; his clothing is fine, but he knows horses far too well to be the son of a rich woman…and his eyes are a bit on the strange side…”

Her brow rose somewhat. “ _She_ is my aunt’s stablemistress,” she told him, “but my aunt has all but taken her in as another daughter after her parents passed of the same illness that gave her those eyes.” She didn’t like that they couldn’t say that Zhu was Zhi’s daughter, but she understood why: If someone found out that Zhi and the girls were royalty, Zhu’s existence would cause a scandal.

The breeder’s eyes widened and his cheeks darkened in embarrassment. His mouth opened and closed as he tried to form some sort of apology. “My—my apologies,” he finally stammered, unable to meet Mulan’s gaze. “She’s extremely knowledgeable when it comes to horses…Your aunt is lucky to have her!”

“Yes to both of those,” Mulan said, still wearing a small frown.

Rubbing the back of his neck, the breeder glanced away. “H-how did she come to know so much about them, if you don’t mind me asking? Or do you not know?”

“She was riding long before she could walk.” Looking past him, she watched as Zhu and Xia came trotting back in. Her brow rose; they hadn’t been gone very long.

“Add this one to the purchase list,” Zhu said, bringing Xia to a halt outside her stall. She dismounted, brushing her tunic back into place. “She needs a little work, but nothing Chien-Po cannot handle.”

Quickly nodding, the breeder managed a nervous smile. “She’s a good work horse, too; if you need carts or wagons pulled, she’s your mare.”

“I am sure we will need her for such labor at some point,” Zhu told him. “For now, though, she shall be getting used to her new rider.”

“And with Xia on the list, that makes all five horses chosen, doesn’t it?” Mulan asked. She blinked before smiling; Ning had poked her head out of her stall to nuzzle her. “Yes, you’re a sweet girl,” she murmured, gently scratching under her chin.

Zhu smiled. ‘That horse is definitely perfect for Mei,’ she thought. Then, turning back to the breeder, she let her face return to its usual stoic self. “How much do I owe you?”

“Uh…I’d have to go do some math right quick,” he admitted. “Let me go get my abacus and I’ll have it figured it out for you.” With a nervously apologetic smile, he gave them a half-bow before hurrying off.

Her brows furrowing, Zhu looked at Mulan. “What’s an abacus?”

Mulan quietly giggled. “A device used for counting and doing math,” she replied. “It has a bunch of discs you can move along its length to help you keep track of numbers.”

“Sounds weird,” she admitted, leaning against a support post. “But I suppose it also sounds like it could be helpful.”

“I’ll show you what one looks like when we get back home.” She looked down the length of the barn, seeing dozens of horses; already, she had forgotten some of the ones Zhu had picked out. “Eight horses and four oxen…You’re going to be a busy stablemistress.”

“Two of the oxen will either be sold off or butchered for food,” she explained. “And, to be honest, I have the feeling at least two of the horses will be sold off within two years. But mother insisted that _everyone_ have their own horse.”

Mulan cocked her head. “Why do you think that?”

“Su and Mei are not the strongest of riders,” she said, “nor are they the most probable to go for pleasure rides.” She then shrugged. “They may surprise me, though. Living on a small farm is vastly different from living in luxury in a large city.”

“How are _you_ liking it?” Mulan asked, her head tilted somewhat. “I know it’s vastly different from what you’re used to.”

Zhu chuckled, a bit of a guilty look on her face. “Admittedly, I much prefer living in a yurt than to living in a house—though, having a kitchen in a separate room is nice.”

“I would imagine. Not as much smoke.”

“Especially if the person cooking wasn’t very good at it.”

Mulan giggled. “Then I suppose living in a yurt wouldn’t be for me.”

“You cook decently enough,” Zhu frowned. “Most of the food you prepared on the journey was edible.”

She gave her a look. “ _Most,_ ” she repeated, cheeks turning just the slightest bit pink.

“Yes?” Confusion filled her face. “Everyone makes inedible food once in a while. Some more than others, but that is why we don’t let Yao cook anymore.”

Snorting, Mulan rolled her eyes. “Truer words have not been said.”

Seeing something in the corner of her vision, Zhu turned her head. The breeder was walking towards them, a strange device in his hand. She supposed that it was his abacus, as he held it up and started talking numbers to her and Mulan. Once in a while, she stole a glance at Mulan to check her expressions; after all, _she_ knew how math on an abacus worked.

It only baffled her.

In the end, however, Mulan had quietly assured her they were getting a good price -especially since one of the geldings was a bit underweight and would need fattening up. After handing over the money, Zhu and Mulan left the barn leading three mares, a stallion, and a gelding along behind them.

“Do you think the others will like the choices you made for them?” Mulan asked as they walked down the road. “I know some people prefer to choose their own horses…”

Zhu shrugged. “I did my best to match up the temperaments of the horse to the rider. The only one I have some reservations about is the one I chose for Ting-Ting.” She glanced over her shoulder at the only stallion of the bunch. “While he may be older than the others, he still has a youthful zest to his personality. Ting-Ting is a better rider than Mei and Su, but I may have to keep an eye on the two of them the first few times they ride together. Especially when the mares go into season.”

“At least you’ll only have to worry about the one stallion,” Mulan chuckled. “Unless Khan pulls an Umut and goes to visit.”

At that, Zhu’s cheeks went red and she closed her eyes with a pained expression. “I am sorry she keeps doing that. I don’t know _why_ she feels the constant need to go to your barn and pasture when ours are larger...”

Mulan smiled. “It’s fine,” she assured her. “It’s actually really cute, because they chase each other around the pasture like they’re foals.”

Her brow rose. “Really?”

“Mhm. If you saw them, you would think Umut is just an ordinary horse.”

“Maybe that is _why_ she keeps visiting Khan…” Zhu murmured, a thoughtful expression coming to her face. “Many times, other horses would be spooked by her presence, but Khan never was. Perhaps being around him makes her feel like she is an ‘ordinary’ horse, as you put it.”

She tilted her head. “Interesting. You’d think that, since she’s bound to this form, other horses wouldn’t be able to tell…”

“Horses are extremely sensitive creatures. They can pick up on the smallest things and alert their riders.”

“Especially if they’re a djinn in disguise?”

Zhu cocked her brow once more, a small smile on her lips. “Even more so in that case.” She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “But there is also the fact that this new form of hers is…well, _huge_.”

“Did you prefer her smaller form?”

For a moment, Zhu was silent. Mulan watched as her brows went from raised to furrowed, to confused. “Yes and no. Her smaller form was built more for speed and maneuverability. This one is meant for endurance and strength—and, admittedly, intimidation.” She let out a small sigh and rubbed the back of her neck. “After seeing her true form, I would have thought she would have taken on a more lithe form.”

Mulan’s brows rose. “You—you saw her true form?” Zhu nodded. “What did she look like?”

“She had skin as paler than the moon and her hair was black as night. Her eyes were silver and had a strange, unearthly fire to them. They shined like stars.” Her brow rose ever so slightly; she had heard a similar description of a woman before. But when? It certainly didn’t come from her uncle or any of the elite…

“Well, then she sounds like she’s beautiful whether she’s in horse form or her true form,” Mulan smiled.

“She was and is. I daresay she is the most beautiful mare in the world.”

Giggling, Mulan cocked a brow. “And not with the slightest bit of bias, either,” she said, voice sarcastic.

To Mulan’s surprise, Zhu grinned. “Of _course_ I’m not biased,” she said, feigning an innocent tone. “I wouldn’t be a very good stablemistress if I played favorites, now would I?”

 

It didn’t take them much longer to return home; the breeder only lived a mile away. Getting the horses settled into their new home didn’t take very long, either; the two women hadn’t been the least bit surprised to find Yao and Ling missing from the courtyard, leaving them to do all the work. Being already trained, however, the horses behaved quite well as they were brushed down, fed, and locked up for the evening.

By the time the two left the barn, the sun was beginning to make its evening descent. Mulan was about to bid Zhu goodnight when she stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening in horror. Frowning, Zhu turned around only curse under her breath.

Ling and Yao were walking back from their work in the fields, the oxen trudging along behind them. Both carried their empty lunch baskets at their sides and they had their shirts tied around their waists. Almost every bit of their exposed skin had turned a bright, painful-looking red.

“Hey, Mulan! Hey, Zhu!” Yao chirped. The women were surprised he was in such good spirits. “Guess what? We got the whole field plowed!”

“Now we can add clay or manure to it tomorrow,” Ling added, grinning. “Then, it’ll be ready for the late-season crops!”

Mulan and Zhu exchanged worried glances. “That’s…great, guys,” Mulan said, forcing a smile. “I, ah…take it you got a little warm while working?”

Yao snorted. “ _Warm_ is an understatement,” he told her. “We sweated through our shirts, so we took ‘em off. Cooled us down for a bit.”

“I think it would have been better to leave them _on_ ,” Zhu murmured, brow rising.

Ling frowned. “What, and overheat?” He put his hand on his hip, intending to scold her for such a ridiculous idea, but he instead yelped in pain. “Ouch! What the—” As he looked down at himself, his eyes widened and he gulped. “…Oh no…”

“ _Just_ noticed ya went an’ got yourself sunburned, eh?” Yao chuckled. “That’s what ya get for havin’ such delicate ski—” He started to cross his arms only to swear loudly in pain and quickly fling his arms back out. Frowning, he discovered that he, too, had been badly burned.

Shaking her head, Zhu looked at Mulan. “Take them out back to the pond,” she instructed, “and have them sit in it until I get there.”

“What’re you going to do?” Mulan asked as she started to head for the house.

“I know of a method to ease their pain,” she sighed.

Entering the house, she made for the kitchen. Much to her surprise, she found only Su in the kitchen. Where Chien-Po was, she hadn’t the slightest idea.

“Su?” she said, hoping to not startle her sister too much.

Su jumped only slightly and looked up from her work. “Zhu! You’re back! Just in time; I need someone to taste-test this for me.” Before Zhu had time to protest, she had practically run over and held the spoon up to her sister’s mouth.

Having no choice, Zhu leaned over and took the bite. It was an odd mixture of sugar, figs, and citrus fruits—even odder was how well they worked together. Her brows rising in surprise, she nodded slightly as she chewed and swallowed the mixture.

“Delicious,” she told Su.

“Good!” She skipped back to the counter where she was working. “I’m going to try using it to make some sweet cakes tomorrow.”

“I am sure they will be just as delicious as all your other food,” she smiled. Then, remembering her purpose for being in the kitchen, she frowned slightly. “However, I am in need of lavender oil and peppermint oil. Some clean rags, too.”

Her brow rising, Su glanced up at her. “Why?”

“Ling and Yao got themselves badly sunburnt.”

Making a disappointed ‘tsk’ sound, Su set down her spoon and headed for the pantry. “Those silly boys,” she said. “How did they go and do that?”

“They worked shirtless while plowing the fields.”

“Ooh, so _that’s_ why Mei and Ting-Ting insisted on having their lunch in the living room!” She giggled and came out of the pantry with two rather large jars. “I _knew_ there had to be some reason.”

Zhu’s brows furrowed in confusion as she took the jars from her sister. “What do you mean by that?” Setting the jars down on the counter, she leaned over slightly, peering out the open back door to see if Yao and Ling had gotten into the pond yet. Her brow rose as she watched Ling run into view only to jump, feet-first, into the water. Yao followed just a few seconds later.

“Oh, you know,” she giggled. Grabbing a pair of small pitchers, she set them between the jars. “Men working in the fields without their shirts…Why _wouldn’t_ our silly sisters want to watch them?”

“Su, you are speaking in riddles to me,” she sighed. “What difference does it make if Ling and Yao were shirtless? They were plowing the fields—I would think watching them would quickly become boring.” Turning back to her sister, she saw Su beginning to pour some oil into one of the pitchers.

She glanced up from the oil. “Have you never ogled a man before because you thought he was attractive?” Lifting the jar slightly, she moved to the next pitcher.

Zhu felt her cheeks grow warm. “…I do not recall ever finding _anyone_ attractive before…nor do I really know what’s considered attractive,” she admitted. “Or, maybe I have and did not realize it…? Either way, no. I have never ‘ogled’ someone before.”

“Oh. Well, I guess that makes sense.” She finishing with the first oil, she grabbed the second and started to pour add it to the pitchers. “Anyway. Mei and Ting-Ting find Yao and Ling attractive. As such, they wanted to see if that attractiveness isn’t limited to just their faces and personalities.”

“I see,” she murmured, still not quite understanding her sisters’ fascination with the shirtless lieutenants. ‘Maybe Mulan can better explain it to me?’ she thought. ‘Su isn’t the best at explaining these sorts of things…’

“There,” Su suddenly chirped. “One pitcher of half lavender, half peppermint oils for each of them. And—” She hurried back into the pantry only to return with two clean dishtowels. “Some towels. Now, make sure they also get plenty of water to drink; no doubt they’re dehydrated after working in the sun all day. And tell them to cover up next time they go outside! We don’t need them to turn into walking blisters.”

Zhu scrunched her nose up at the thought. “I will be sure to relay the message,” she assured her. Grabbing the pitchers in one hand, she grabbed the towels with the other. “Thank you, by the way. I’m sure they will appreciate this.”

Su shrugged. “I’m not sure how that combination of oils will work, but I hope they work well for them!”

With a small smile, Zhu headed outside. She walked towards Mulan, who held her head in her hand as she shook it. Cocking a brow, she looked around for the two burnt lieutenants.

“Where are Ling and Yao?” she asked.

“Give them about five seconds longer,” Mulan sighed, exasperation all too clear on her face. “Then you’ll—”

Suddenly, Ling and Yao burst out of the water, gasping for breath. Their bright-red skin was now covered by a fine layer of greyish-brown mud, making them look like some sort of half man, half ape creatures.

“What in the Earth Mother’s name are you two doing?” Zhu questioned. She wasn’t sure if she should have been amused or upset by the sight of them.

“The mud feels nice on our skin,” Yao answered, slapping a handful of mud onto his shoulder.

Ling nodded in agreement as he carefully used two fingers to apply mud to his face. “It’s really quite refreshing. You two should try it! It also leaves the skin feeling very soft.” He grinned up at them.

“ _What_ are we going to do with the two of you?” Mulan said, somewhat covering her mouth with her hand as she tried to not giggle. “You look utterly ridiculous, I hope you know.” Her cheeks were pink as she watched them.

Yao had an almost smug expression as he glanced up her, sliding more mud along his arm. “We may _look_ ridiculous, but we feel _great_.”

“You two goofballs will feel even better once you remove the mud and use this oil mixture,” Zhu told them.

They both looked at her, confused. “Huh? Oil?” Yao asked.

“Won’t that just make us burn worse?” Ling questioned. “Because last I checked, oil plus heat equals fried food.”

Zhu closed her eyes for a moment. “This will _not_ further burn you,” she calmly explained, “unless you were to get it into your eyes or to sit, naked, in the midday sun. It is lavender oil mixed with peppermint oil. The peppermint has a cooling effect while the lavender has a numbing effect.

“However, if you wish to continue living in pain, then by all means, continue applying the mud,” she continued with a shrug. “The heat of your skin will make it grow dry and hold the heat in. The more layers of mud you apply, the more heat kept inside your body until you bake yourselves into terracotta statues.” She glanced at Mulan, giving her a quick wink.

Ling and Yao looked at one another before looking at the mud on their skin. As Zhu had said, it was beginning to dry and they were beginning to feel uncomfortably warm once again. Cursing, they flung themselves back under the water and started scrubbing away the mud.

“Is that true?” Mulan asked, watching the two goofballs. “That they could bake themselves alive?”

“It could be, though I was merely lying to them to get them to wash the mud off,” Zhu chuckled.

Rolling her eyes, Mulan smiled. “Whatever makes them come to their senses, I guess.”

Soon enough, Ling and Yao crawled out of the pond, skin mostly free of mud. Their pants, however, would need a good wash later. Zhu then handed them each one of the towels so they could dry themselves off.

“Why do we need t’ dry off if we’re just goin’ t’ cover ourselves in oil?” Yao asked, patting as much of himself dry as he could.

“Oil and water don’t mix, duh,” Ling told him, wincing as he managed to reach behind him to pat part of his back dry. “The oil won’t do anything if we’re soaking wet.”

“Then why have us get in the pond in the first place!?”

“Because it would have helped to cool you down,” Zhu explained. “Now, pay attention; this isn’t a one-time application.” Taking Ling’s cloth, she demonstrated how much oil they should put on the towel; it was only a small amount. “Then you simply pat it everywhere that hurts, being careful to not get it in your eyes. If you do it once every couple of hours, you should feel much better by morning.”

Ling started to press the oiled towel against his neck and shoulders. “Huh. It does feel _kind_ of nice…”

“The lavender’s makin’ me kind of sleepy, though,” Yao sniffed, pouring oil onto his towel. He started to dab it around his face. “But the peppermint is makin’ my nose feel nice and cold.”

“Good!” Mulan smiled. “Maybe between the two, you’ll get a decent night’s sleep, too.”

Zhu nodded in agreement. “And Su said to remind the two of you to drink plenty of water.” When Ling started to struggle with getting his back, she plucked the cloth from his hand and started to pat the oil back there for him.

Mulan did the same for Yao. “And we don’t care _how_ hot you get: _Keep your clothes on_. If the two of you were to get anymore sun with a burn like this, it wouldn’t be good.”

“You would look like a pair of overcooked shrimp,” Zhu stated. She then paused. “Well, Yao would more resemble an overcooked _crab_ than a shrimp…”

“Hey!” Yao pouted up at her. “I look _nothin’_ like a crab!”

Ling laughed. “Yes, you do,” he said. “You’re stocky, meaty, and feisty just like a crab.”

“Oh yeah? At least I ain’t all gangly an’ got a big ol’ nose like a shrimp!” Yao growled. He took a step forward, making to grab Ling, but he didn’t take into account that Zhu had been right beside him. His arm shoved past her, making her take a step back in surprise.

Only, there was nothing behind her to step onto.

With a curse, Zhu tumbled backwards into the pond. Mulan, Ling, and Yao froze in a mixture of shock and terror, not caring when the impact of her fall sent water splashing over them. They held their breath, waiting— _praying_ —that she would surface.

And surface she did. Coughing and spluttering, Zhu shook the mud and water from her face. What she couldn’t get off, she tried to wipe away with her hands.

“Yao did it!” Ling cried.

“Yeah, because _ya_ made me!” Yao argued. “If ya hadn’t opened your big mouth, then I wouldn’t have—”

“Are you alright, Zhu?” Mulan crouched down, biting her lower lip in worry. “You didn’t hit your head or anything, did you? How much water did you inhale?”

Zhu looked up at her, stray bits of hair and mud clinging to her face. “I am fine,” she assured her. She then rubbed her cheek, an impressed expression coming to her face. “Hm. Ling was right: The mud _does_ leave my skin feeling soft.”

Ling perked, a grin spreading across his face. “See?! Doesn’t it feel nice? I’m tempted to get a jar and fill it with the stuff so I can use when this sunburn goes away.”

“Except it smells bad.” She climbed out of the pond, her brows furrowing. “I forgot how difficult it is to walk in wet leather…” she murmured, looking down at herself. Bending over, she pulled off one of her boots and emptied it of water.

Yao frowned. “You’re wearin’ leather, kid? In _summer_?”

“I am used to it by now.” She pulled off her other boot and emptied it.” She then blinked a few times before rubbing her eyes. “We should probably get changed before dinner…Mother would scold us all if we showed up soaking wet like this.”

“Zhi, Mei, Ting-Ting, an’ Chien-Po are eatin’ in town tonight,” Yao told her. “So it’ll just be us an’ Su for dinner.”

She nodded in understanding. “So _that_ is where Chien-Po is…I was wondering why Su was alone in the kitchen.” She started to walk towards the servants’ house, Mulan walking alongside her.

“Do…you think Su would mind if I stayed for dinner?” Mulan asked, her voice a bit shy.

“Of course not,” Zhu answered, brow rising. “Though, I’m curious as to why you’d want to eat here instead of your own home.”

Mulan let out a defeated sigh. “My parents have been discussing the possibility of me visiting the matchmaker again.”

At that, Ling, Yao, and Zhu made various sounds of distaste and pity.

“Tell ‘em you’re too busy bein’ the Savior of China for all that matchmaker nonsense,” Yao suggested.

“Or have someone else go in your place?” Ling suggested. “Zhu’s a woman; she can do it.”

“Yes, because Mulan is nearly six feet tall, has black eyes, and has the build of a man,” Zhu replied, her voice dry. “ _You_ would be a more suitable replacement. And if I recall, I’ve heard that you even still have a dress at the ready should the occasion call for it…”

He pouted. “I look _damned_ beautiful in that dress and you know it.” He tried to cross his arms over his chest, but only succeeded in making himself hiss in pain.

Rolling her eyes, Zhu smiled. “Yes, you were all very pretty. I’m disappointed you were unable to find Shang a dress; I am sure he would have looked quite lovely as well.”

Mulan giggled. “It was hard enough finding those four dresses, let alone one for Shang.” She blinked a few times as they entered the shaded interior of the servants’ house. Continuing to follow Zhu, she was led down the hallway; Ling and Yao entered their rooms as she stepped into Zhu’s.

“Why would your parents want you to return to the matchmaker?” Zhu asked, stiffly leaning over and opening the trunk at the foot of her bed.

Closing the door, Mulan let out a quiet sigh. “As a precaution, I guess.”

“A precaution…?”

“They’re…worried that Shang won’t propose to me.” She sat down on the edge of Zhu’s bed. “But I keep reminding them that we’re not even courting yet, so why would he propose?”

“You are not courting _yet_ ,” Zhu repeated, emphasizing the final word. Pulling out some clothes, she stood back up and started to unlace her pants. “But it is obvious the two of you _will_ court eventually.”

Mulan’s cheeks darkened once more. “I—I don’t know if we’ll even do _that_. We’re just—just friends!”

Zhu gave her an unimpressed look. “Mulan, I know next to nothing about love and romance, but even _I_ can tell the two of you are in love.” Seeing that Mulan was staring at her in a mixture of shock and mild horror, she cocked a brow. “Shall I list the ways how I can tell…?” Getting her tunic and under shirt off, she used a dirtied shirt to dry off a bit more.

Shaking her head, she closed her eyes and sighed. “No, no…It’s just…” She sighed again. “I know _I_ am in love with Shang and…I kind of know he feels the same. At times. But then there are times when it seems like he sees me only as a friend…”

“He most definitely feels the same towards you,” she assured her. Tugging on a clean, dry pair of pants, she laced them into place. As she grabbed a shirt and pulled it on, Mulan noticed how she was careful to not let her see her back. “Shang and I spoke quite often of you. While I was still at the palace.” She sat down beside her.

Mulan’s brows furrowed slightly. “You did…?”

She nodded. “He more than once lamented how he did not have you there to give him a different view on things and how he missed hearing your voice. But he also knew that his life as general would be vastly different from anything you knew and he didn’t want to whisk you away from your home and loved ones to a life you did not know.”

“Did…did he really say that?

Bringing her braid over her shoulder, she undid the leather strap holding it together. “Yes. He knew it would hurt you to leave your life here again, especially when visits home would be rare due to the distance.” She ran her fingers through the braid, unraveling it. “Mother tried to introduce him to a few different women in hopes of helping him find love closer to home, but none of them compared to you in the slightest.”

Mulan looked at her lap, feeling an ache beginning to grow in her heart. “He’s a general,” she said, voice soft. “He deserves someone who can be at his side at all times…”

“No.”

She glanced up at her. “‘No’?” she repeated, confused.

“No,” Zhu said again. “Shang deserves someone who would not only stand at his side, but who would also _love_ him. Just like _you_ deserve someone who would stand at your side and _love_ you.” She started to finger-comb her hair. “Right now, no, the two of you cannot be at each other’s sides, but it is _extremely_ clear that you love each other. And, if what my mother says about love finding a way, the two of you will eventually be able to be together.”

Mulan let out a soft laugh. “For not knowing much about romance, you sure sound like you know it well.”

Zhu half-heartedly smiled. “I assure you, that is the extent of my knowledge.” Then, rubbing the back of her neck, she slouched forward. “I…was actually hoping to talk to you about something related to romance.”

Tilting her head, she gave her a curious look. “Oh?”

She nodded slightly and let out a sigh; a nervous feeling started to make itself known in her stomach. It confused her—she had no reason to be nervous. She knew Mulan wouldn’t judge her curiosity. “Earlier, when I was getting the oil from Su, she mentioned how Mei and Ting-Ting had had their lunch in a different room in order to watch Yao and Ling—who were shirtless—work in the fields.”

“Sounds about right,” Mulan said, her brow rising and a small smile on her lips. “I doubt they get to see shirtless men very often.” She reached over and, taking a chunk of Zhu’s hair, separated it in half before beginning to twist the halves together. “What confused you about it?”

“Are Yao and Ling attractive?” She glanced at Mulan from the corner of her eye, watching a bit of surprise come to her face. “Or, rather, are they what most people would _consider_ attractive?”

“That’s…a difficult question to answer.” She paused in her hair-twisting so she could make Zhu hold the piece to keep it from unraveling. “Everyone has different tastes when it comes to attractiveness. Some people like strong jaws, defined muscles, and a good smile—”

“Which is what you find attractive about Shang?”

Her cheeks darkened as she started twisting a bit more hair. “ _Some_ of the things I find attractive about Shang, yes,” she admitted. “But other people could prefer facial hair over cleanshaven or bigger eyes over narrower ones. There are even people who couldn’t care less what a person looks like; it’s the person’s personality that counts.”

“Like how Chien-Po doesn’t care what his future wife looks like, so long as she can cook well.”

“Exactly.” Making Zhu hold the second twist, she grabbed a third section and began to twist it as well. “When it comes to physical attraction, you’re basically looking for whatever _you_ find pleasing to the eye. A person may not have everything you find attractive, but still look pleasing to the eye. Or, a person who society deems to be attractive may not appeal to you whatsoever.

“In the case of Ting-Ting and Mei, it sounds like Yao and Ling are what _they_ consider attractive.” Taking back the first two twists, she started to braid the three ropes of hair together. “But for society’s definition? They’re…well, let’s just say Shang is more of what society deems attractive for men.”

Zhu slowly nodded, taking in all of the information. “I think I understand,” she murmured, a thoughtful look on her face. “I guess I should start trying to figure out what I find pleasing about a person’s appearance, then…”

Mulan blinked. “You’ve…never found a person attractive?”

She shrugged. “To be honest, I do not know if I have or haven’t. I was raised to be my uncle’s pawn and a coldblooded killer, remember? I never really got to learn about romance and attractiveness and whatnot…”

“True,” Mulan agreed. “That, and I would imagine the Huns were more intimidating than attractive…”

“In most cases, yes. Though, apparently, my father was _very_ handsome.” She shifted slightly, allowing Mulan to better reach more of her hair. “More handsome than the Emperor had been in his youth, according to mother.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.” She fell quiet for a few minutes, trying to remember if there had ever been someone she had found physically pleasing. At first, none really came to mind, but as she thought more and more, _someone_ finally did come to mind. Her brows furrowing, she somewhat narrowed her eyes and half-glared at the wall. “Hm.”

Mulan tilted her head curiously; she knew that look. “What is it?”

“I think I’ve remembered someone I found attractive. Or, rather, someone I thought was very pretty.”

“Really?” she chirped, an excited look on her face. “Do tell!”

“It was when we were in Arabia,” she started. “There was this woman—I believe she was the wife of the prince my uncle was trying to treaty with. She wore so many bright colors and so much jewelry that, with even the slightest movement, it sounded like gentle rain. And her smile was infectious—she even made my uncle and the elite smile.”

“She _does_ sound pretty,” Mulan smiled. “Was she kind?”

“Very much so.” A smile came to her lips as she remembered the year she had spent in Arabia. “She was the one who taught me their language. I followed her around every chance I had. ‘Alqlyl Alzilu’ she called me—it means ‘Little Shadow’. And I called her ‘Sin Samayl’ in return. It means Sun Smile.”

“It certainly sounds like the two of you couldn’t be separated,” Mulan chuckled. “From the sounds of it, she was a joy to be around. Have you seen her since then?”

Zhu’s smile faded and she closed her eyes. “No. And if I had, I don’t think she would have liked what I had become. I was no longer her little Alqlyl Alzilu.”

“Well…you’ve changed. Perhaps you should go back and visit her?” she suggested. Now having the top half of Zhu’s hair twisted and braided, she started searching for something to tie the ends of the braids together.

Zhu handed her a length of cord from the bedside table. “If it were possible, then I would. But, as things are now, it’s impossible for me to go on such a long journey.”

“How long of a journey would it be?” She carefully wrapped the ends of the braids together.

“From here? Hm.” She thought for a moment. “A few years, at the very least.”

Mulan’s brows rose. “A few _years_?” she gasped.

“The world is vastly larger than you know,” she chuckled. “But, yes. A few years—and that is taking into account all the times you will be forced to stop and wait for better weather as well as how long you stay in your destination. After traveling so far, you won’t stay for a week or two; it would be more like three or four months at the very _least_.”

“Well, there goes any thoughts I had about eventually visiting Arabia,” Mulan said, feigning a disappointed sigh.

Zhu smiled, her brow rising. “You may start seeing traders coming from there soon,” she said. “They are already visiting the western edges of China. I have no doubt that, in a few years, they will have made their way to the eastern coast.”

“Ooh, I wonder if they would have any of the jewelry you mentioned? Because it sounds quite lovely.”

“I have no doubt they will have jewelry. And clothing…and spices. They would not be very good traders if they didn’t, now would they?”

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting with this chapter, updates will be once a week~ Posting this a little early because I feel like crap, though.

“Do you think this will be enough?”

“Should be. It’s an entire cartful an’ we don’t need much t’ fertilize the entire area.”

Ling cocked a brow and looked behind Yao at the cart full of clay and the single ox that was hitched to it. “Are you sure…? Because this really doesn’t seem like it’ll be enough.” Though it wasn’t manure, it still had a certain stench to it, making him thankful it was still early morning.

But when the midday sun eventually heated it up, he knew he and Yao would have to cover their faces.

Yao lightly smacked his arm, making him wince. “Stop doubtin’ me! Ya know I’m good at estimatin’ this kind of stuff,” he pouted. “This will be enough, I promise. An’ if it isn’t, I’ll use my _own_ money t’ buy however much more we’d need.”

“I’m going to hold that to you, you know that, right?” He rubbed his arm where Yao had smacked him. Though the lavender and peppermint oils had helped a great deal over the last few days, it still stung whenever any sort of pressure was applied to his skin. “Now where did Chien-Po get off to?”

“I don’t know, but he better not be raidin’ the market again. I heard Zhi scoldin’ Su earlier ‘bout how little storage was left in the kitchen after her recent market visit…”

“To be fair, we are beginning to dry and preserve foods for the winter.”

Both Ling and Yao swore in surprise. Turning around, they found Chien-Po wearing a bit of a mischievous smile as he held a small basket—or, rather, it was an average sized basket that look small when held by him. What was inside it, though, they couldn’t see thanks to the cloth covering it.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to startle you,” he chuckled. “But, yes. We’ve already got many fruits set out on racks to dry. The meats will be next, though some of those will also be smoked. But, within a week or two, the pantry will return to its normal storage capacity.”

Slowly nodding, Yao glanced up at the basket. “So, what’s in the basket, then? Salt?”

“Sugar and beeswax, actually!” he chirped. Lowering the basket, he showed Yao and Ling the large bricks of sugar and the blocks of beeswax he had bought.

“Makes sense,” Ling said. “Going to candy some of the fruit?” He gave the ox a small thwack on the backside, getting it to start moving.

He nodded and started to walk alongside the cart. “And the wax is for both sealing jars as well as making candles.”

Yao lifted a brow. “Wasn’t Zhu sayin’ how she needed t’ get some wax for the saddles?” he questioned.

Chien-Po frowned, a worried look coming to his face. “Did she? Oh, if I had known, I would have gladly picked some up for her…”

Ling dismissively waved his hand and laughed. “Ah, don’t worry about it! I’m sure she’s more than capable of going into town on her own.” He then paused, a thoughtful look replacing his amusement. “Unless it’s close to the new moon. _Then_ she’d need somebody to help her…”

Yao shook his head. “Nah, she’s got three days ‘til the new moon,” he assured them. “An’ then she’s got at least twenty-eight days until the next one.”

Chien-Po looked impressed. “You’ve been keeping track?”

He frowned. “Ya mean ya _haven’t_?” He cocked his brow once more when he watched them look away guiltily. “Well, then, it’s a good thing _one_ o’ us has a mind t’ keep track of it,” he said, puffing his chest out ever so slightly. “At least _I’ll_ be prepared t’ take over stable duties while she’s blind.”

Ling gave him a curious look. “You’re only keeping track so you can know when one of us is going to have to do a different job for a few days…?” he asked, voice bland.

“Hey, takin’ care of all those horses an’ oxen is a big job!” he retorted. “I’ve got t’ be sure I’ve got the proper mindset t’ handle all that extra work!”

Shaking his head, Chien-Po muttered a small prayer under his breath. “Yao, you will not be the _only_ one doing the stable work,” he said. “You may not even be the one to do it at all.”

“Yeah,” Ling agreed. “Zhu’ll pick whoever she thinks is the best fit for the job.” He then snorted. “Which means it probably won’t be any of _us_.”

“An’ just why do you think that?!”

“She knows us too well,” Chien-Po smiled. “She knows that I start sneezing if I’m around too much hay; you have a temper that could startle the animals; and Ling is easily distracted.”

At that, Ling pouted. “Hey! I’m only distracted if there are pretty women around!”

“And we happen to live with four pretty women while a fifth one coming to visit nearly every day,” Chien-Po replied, voice dry.

“Oh, he knows Mulan an’ Zhi are off limits,” Yao snickered. “Shang would tan Ling alive if he tried t’ take Mulan from him!”

Ling, who had been quietly counting on his fingers when Chien-Po’s math didn’t quite add up, looked up with a cocked brow. “Hey, I may be a flirt, but I’m not _that_ big of a flirt.”

Yao nodded in an acquiescing fashion. “True…ya do know when to stop. _Most_ o’ the time.”

“There was that one time, however…” Chien-Po said with a small sigh.

Ling’s face turned as red as a beet. “Don’t you _dare_ bring up _that_ up. You know full well it was Qi’s fault it happened in the first place!”

Yao started snickering. “You’re just lucky I was there t’ pull your ass out o’ harm’s way.”

Crossing his arms, Ling pouted and glared at the horizon. “Not my fault,” he grumbled. “Qi didn’t tell me she was married to the _captain of the guard_ …”

Barely fifteen minutes passed between them leaving town and reaching the farm. As they walked into the courtyard, Chien-Po took his leave to go help Su in the kitchen. Yao and Ling, on the other hand, led the ox down the hill to the plowed field where they unhitched it. They then led it back up the hill, towards the barn.

Coming up the hill, they started to hear singing. At first, they thought it was the princesses singing while they worked inside. The closer they came to the barn, however, they began to realize that the singing was coming from it— _not_ the house.

The voice sounded familiar, but neither could recall where they had heard it before. They knew it couldn’t be Su—she was with Chien-Po in the kitchen. And Mei didn’t usually venture into the barn thanks to its smell, ruling her out as well. Ting-Ting did her woodworking in the barn; was it her voice they were hearing?

It wasn’t until they were just outside the barn doors that they were finally able to decipher the words being sung:

 

_‘Tranquil as a forest_

_But on fire within_

_Once you find your center_

_You are sure to win_

_You’re a spineless, pale_

_Pathetic lot_

_And you haven’t got a clue_

_Somehow I’ll make a man out you_

_You must be swift as a coursing river_

_With all the force of a great typhoon_

_With all the strength of a raging fire_

_Mysterious as the dark side of the moon!’_

There was a small crash followed by someone swearing. Shoving open the barn door, the two lieutenants found grain spilled all over the floor and Zhu picking up the remains of what had once been a wooden bucket. She looked up as they entered, eyes wide and cheeks bright red.

“Er…hi, guys,” she said, brushing some pieces of hair from her face. “Back from town already?”

“Yeah,” Yao said, his brow rising. He then looked around curiously. “Is Ting-Ting in here?”

Standing upright, she shook her head. “No; she and mother went out to the pasture.”

“What about Mulan, then?” Ling asked, frowning in confusion.

“She is at her own home.” Her brows furrowed somewhat. “Why? Do you need to speak with either of them?” She became more confused when she saw a look of dawning realization come to Ling’s face.

“Nah. We just heard someone singin’ an’ thought it might’ve been one o’ them,” Yao answered.

At that, Zhu’s cheeks turned dark red and she glanced away. “I did not think I was singing that loudly…”

Yao’s eye widened. “Wait—that voice we heard was _you_ , kid?!” He swore when Ling smacked him upside the head.

“Of _course_ it was her!” he scolded. “We should have known it was her once we heard that it was Shang’s training song.”

Her face still red, Zhu shifted the bucket’s remains. “I’m sorry. I will try to be quieter next time.” Turning, she started to head to the back of the barn.

Yao and Ling exchanged confused glances. “Ya can sing as loud as ya want, kid,” Yao told her. Grabbing the ox’s harness, he started to lead it in. “We were just surprised it was _you_ who was singin’ is all.”

“Yeah,” Ling assured her. “We didn’t even know you _could_ sing.”

She set the bucket shards on a bench already filled with chisels and hammers. Ting-Ting’s workbench. “I…do not sing very often. At least, not around people.”

“Why’s that?” Yao asked. “You’ve got a really good voice, kid.” He frowned when the ox stopped moving. Turning, he found it with its head to the ground, practically inhaling the spilled grain.

“Thank-you.” Zhu rubbed the back of her neck. “My uncle hated singing. If he caught me singing, he would yell at me to shut up or simply smack me.” She then shrugged. “I was not the only one. If he caught _anyone_ singing, they would receive the same punishment. But if he caught the same person singing more than twice—save for me—he would usually cut out their tongue.”

They cringed at the thought. “Why did he hate singing so much?” Ling asked, horrified.

“I do not know,” she admitted. Grabbing a broom, she headed back to the front of the barn. “Mother told me that he had always hated singing; she thinks it was because he had an awful voice.”

Yao snorted. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“I do not know if it was true, since I never heard him sing.” She started to shoo the ox away, but it snorted defiantly and refused to move. “But it would make sense.” She tried again to shoo the ox away from the grain, but it snorted and took a step forward, pushing her to the side.

“Maybe you should just let him finish eating the grain?” Ling suggested with a small, nervous chuckle. “We don’t need you getting hurt because you want to keep the barn clean.”

“That grain has gone bad. It somehow got wet and is starting to mold,” she told him, setting the broom against the wall. She then started to roll up her sleeves. “If he eats much more of it, he could get badly sick…or worse.” Going back over to the ox, she grabbed its horns and started to push it backwards.

The ox let out an angry snort and gave a sharp thrust forward, pushing Zhu back a couple of feet.

“Kid, be careful!” Yao warned, worry filling his voice and face. “Just let the dumb thing eat the grain an’ die—no one’s goin’ t’ blame ya for savin’ your own hide!”

Zhu ignored him. Flicking a braid over her shoulder, she grabbed the ox by the horns again. This time, it let out a harsh bellow and started to push her backwards. But she gritted her teeth and dug her heels into the earth. The ox thrust forward again, but she went nowhere.

Taking a step forward, she started to shove the ox. It struggled against her, but she gave it no lenience. Gouges were left in the dirt floor as its hooves tried to dig in and plant itself. Yao and Ling watched as she forced it to turn around before shoving it backwards, towards its stall.

Once it was in its stall, Zhu gave it one, last quick shove backwards. Letting go of the horns, she shut the stall door, making sure it was well-locked. “Act like that again,” she told it, pointing a warning finger at its face, “and I will make sure you end up as our dinner.” Shaking her head, she turned away and wiped her palms on her tunic. Her brow rose when she found Ling and Yao gawking at her. “…What?”

“You…you just _pushed_ an _ox_ across the barn,” Ling said.

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “Yes? Once I got my footing, it was not hard.”

“Kid, just how strong _are_ ya?” Yao demanded. “We always knew you was strong, but we never found out just _how_ strong ya are.”

She shrugged, feeling her cheeks growing warm once again. “I…do not know?” she admitted. Something beyond the lieutenants caught her attention and she curiously tilted her head.

“Zhu!” Mei came skipping into the barn, a wide smile on her face. “Zhu, I’ve finished your dress! You need to come try it—Oh, hello, Yao! Hello, Ling!”

“Hey there,” Ling smiled.

“Hello, Mei,” Yao said, a slightly goofy smile appearing on his lips.

She gave them each a friendly smile. “I’m actually glad to find you both here! When you have time, could you come to my sewing room?”

Ling cocked his head. “May I ask why?”

“She is going to be measuring you for clothes,” Zhu answered.

Mei nodded excitedly. “Yes! Without all the goings-on of courtly life, I’ve been able to get my sewing done _so_ much faster, giving me ample amounts of free time,” she explained. “But, as much as I love making dresses for my mother, sisters, and Mulan, it can get a bit boring after a while. As such, I have decided to make you three some clothes, as well!”

Zhu’s brow rose as Ling and Yao’s faces turned red. Yao’s cheeks, she noticed, were much darker in color than Ling’s. ‘Is it because of his small stature or is it because of his affections for Mei that he’s so red?’ she wondered. ‘It’s a nice change of pace from his usual, grumpy self, though.’

The slightest hint of a smile lifted the corner of her mouth as an idea came to her.

“Yao has time to get measured right now,” she said, sounding perfectly casual. “It would be best to get him measured now, anyway, as he is not covered in sweat from toiling in the field all day.” She ignored the shocked, half-glare from Yao.

“That would be perfect, actually!” Mei chirped, clapping her hands together. She then blinked, blushing slightly as she looked at Yao. “Oh, only if you don’t mind, of course, Yao.” There was an apologetic smile on her lips.

“N-Not at all!” he stammered, trying to not sound shocked. He then looked at Ling. “You comin’, too?”

Ling shook his head as he rubbed his upper arm. “Nah. I’d already planned on taking a bath tonight, so I’ll get measured afterwards. Plus, I need to go put some more peppermint-lavender oil on. My skin is starting to itch like crazy.”

Yao nodded slightly as Ling waved at them and left.

“And _you_ ,” Mei said, pointing at Zhu, “need to come try on your dress at some point today.”

“I will,” she assured her.

“Promise?”

“Yes, I promise.”

Mei gave her a stern nod. “Good, because the sooner I know that the jacket portion fits those broad shoulders of yours, then sooner I can get it dyed.”

“Understood,” Zhu chuckled. “You two best get going. I need to get this grain mess cleaned up before another ox tries to poison itself.”

Mei cocked a brow. “Pardon?”

“Spoiled grain,” Yao explained. “The ox tried t’ eat it an’ your sister had t’ shove it back into its stall.”

Mei closed her eyes, a small sigh leaving her mouth. Looking at Zhu, Yao saw her quickly turning around and heading for the broom. “Zhu…You know you’re not—No. I’m _not_ going to scold you. If you did it to keep the ox from poisoning itself, then that’s fine.” Shaking her head, she looked at Yao. “Come along, Yao. Let’s get you measured.”

Quickly nodding, Yao followed along behind Mei as she led him into the house. He was sure to take his shoes off lest he drag any dirt in, though he noticed that Mei left her slippers on. Whether it was done on purpose or if she had merely forgot, he didn’t know.

“I apologize for the strange smell,” she said as they entered her room. It was the size of Yao and Ling’s rooms combined, with half of it devoted to her craft. The other half was partially hidden from view by a silk screen. “I am extracting the color from some beetles to use in a dye later and I have to keep it in here, lest Su and Chien-Po confuse it for one of their cooking ingredients.”

“It’s fine,” he assured her. “I’m sure it doesn’t smell any worse than the part o’ the market Ling an’ I were in earlier.”

Her eyes widened somewhat, but her face quickly returned to normal. “Ah, yes; I forgot the two of you went to buy fertilizer this morning.” She started rummaging through a basket. “I’m surprised your clothing didn’t absorb any of the smell!”

“Oh, that’s because we got clay instead o’ sh—poo.” His cheeks darkened in embarrassment.

Mei wore a small smile as she gave him a knowing look. “I don’t mind if you swear,” she giggled. “Mother may think it uncouth, but I know that sometimes, a person just needs to say shit.” Finding what she was looking for, she closed the basket before going in search of something else.

He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous chuckle leaving his mouth. “Still…I shouldn’t really be sayin’ words like that around a princess.”

She wiggled her finger scoldingly. “ _No_ , I’m not,” she reminded him. “Not for the time being, at least. Stand on the stool, please.”

“It’s hard t’ remember that bit sometimes.” He climbed onto the stood, thankful that it was a wide stool. Had it been a normal-sized one, he wouldn’t have been able to keep his balance very well. “Then again, me an’ Ling an’ Chien-Po aren’t normally ‘round women, so we tend t’ treat them like princesses, regardless.”

Her brow rose in amusement. “Is that so? You seem to be quite rough with Mulan and my sister at times.” Using a string marked at even intervals, she started to measure him, beginning at the shoulders. “But I suppose they’re different, since you first met them as ‘men’.”

“Heh, yeah.” He let out another nervous laugh. “T’ be fair, I’m gettin’ better about that, too. I don’t hit them as much anymore.” Pausing, he winced and scrunched up his nose. “That…sounded far worse than I meant it t’ be.”

To his relief, Mei giggled as she wrote down the measurement on a slate board. “I know what you mean,” she assured him. “Arms up. I’ve seen how you behave around them. Unless Ling did something irritating, you rarely cause harm.”

He held out his arms. “Ling may be like my lil’ brother, but by the gods divine grace, he can be an annoyin’ shit sometimes.” He grinned broadly when Mei started giggling even more; he thought her giggle was just as cute as her. “I’m sure ya know the feelin’, though, bein’ that you’ve got a younger sibling, too.”

“Oh, of course I do—and not just towards Su, either. Ting-Ting can be just as much of a pain…if not more so at times. And Zhu…well, she still needs quite a bit of work.” She smiled and took down the numbers for his arm length. “But I would rather have those three as my sisters than anyone else.”

“True. I wouldn’t try Ling an’ Chien-Po for the world.” He smiled sadly. “Wouldn’t have traded Qi, either. Especially since he was the one who’d buy us all the fancy, expensive foods…”

Mei cocked her head. “Qi? I don’t recall you ever mentioning someone with that name.”

As she measured one arm, he used the other to rub the back of his neck. “Ah…that’s ‘cause he’s dead,” he mumbled. “He was Ling’s twin an’ one o’ the Emperor’s best scouts.” He glanced over at her when she froze.

“O-oh…” she murmured, eyes wide and face a bit pale. “He’s the one—Oh…oh dear.” She quickly covered her mouth with her hand, her cheeks now turning red from embarrassment. “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t mean to trudge up bad memories—”

“It’s fine,” he said, giving her a reassuring smile. “Ya didn’t know.” He then casually shrugged. “I’m sure ya would have found out eventually.” Then, for her sake, he changed the subject. “So, uh…how many measurements do ya need t’ take?”

She still wore an expression of guilt but managed a small smile. “Quite a few,” she answered. “I need to measure the length of your arms as well as the width of your wrists, biceps, your shoulder span, et cetera. It’s a tedious amount of numbers to deal with, but in the end, it means the clothes will have a perfect fit.”

“Should I flex when ya measure my biceps?” he joked. “Ya know, so the seams don’t rip when I do it in the future.”

She burst into giggles once more, having to pause in her measuring to regain her composure. “Don’t worry,” she laughed. “That’s what seam allowances are for.” Just able to see his brow rise in confusion, she smiled. “A seam allowance is an added inch or two given to the final measurements so that the garment isn’t skin tight—in most cases, that is. Some clothing is meant to hug the body, so the seam allowances tend to be quite small.”

“Ahh,” he said with a slight nod. “Makes sense. Guess I’ll just have t’ see someone who isn’t as good at sewin’ if I want t’ be able t’ rip my clothes by flexin’.” He couldn’t help but grin as Mei continued to laugh. “Ah, but that’d be a big waste o’ cloth…Guess I won’t be flexin’ for a while, then. I don’t want t’ be like General Pretty Boy an’ risk getting another sunburn.”

By now, Mei was laughing so hard, she had tears of mirth spilling from her eyes. “General Pretty Boy?” she gasped, trying in vain to wipe away the tears. “Don’t let Shang hear you call him that or he’ll have you running laps!”

A mischievous look appeared on his face. “Nah,” he assured her. “I call him that all the time. He just laughs it off an’ tells me t’ try strutting around without my shirt on so I can know what it’s like t’ be a pretty boy.” He snorted. “I keep remindin’ him that that’s _his_ job, since he’s the only one’a us who can get women t’ go all googly-eyed at him.”

“ _Most_ women,” she corrected with a chuckle. “My sisters and I don’t find him the least bit attractive.” Shaking her head, she smiled. “Then again, we were practically raised alongside him and got to witness some of his more… _embarrassing_ moments.”

Yao’s eye widened and he turned, looking at her. “You’re jokin’.”

She gently forced him to face forward once more. “I’m not joking, I promise. My sisters and I know things about Shang that would make him die of shame if ever we told anyone… _especially_ Mulan.” She giggled, the laugh sounding a bit more impish than before.

“Ooh! Tell him about the time you got Shang to run through the palace without any clothes on!”

Jumping, Mei looked at the doorway to find Su and Chien-Po standing there. Both held a small plate filled with what looked like clumps of fruit.

“I am _not_ going to tell him that one,” Mei said with a small pout. “What have you two got there?”

“Candied lemon peel and candied apricot,” Chien-Po smiled. “We were hoping the two of you could taste-test them for us. _We_ think they’re good, but second opinions are always nice.” As the two came into the room, he held out the bowl of candied apricot to Yao, who plucked one out.

“I want t’ hear more about this Shang runnin’ around naked story,” Yao said, wearing a devilish grin as he popped the apricot in his mouth.

Su giggled, ignoring Mei’s pout. “We were all really young,” she started. “I was probably four, making Shang five. Mei and Ting-Ting had managed to convince him that it was customary for boys of his age to run throughout the palace without any clothes on to test their bravery and speed.” She smiled as Mei took one of the candied lemon peels and ate it. “If they managed to not get caught, they would become great heroes bound to go down in history. If they got caught right away, then they were doomed to be a coward—”

“ _Not_ a coward,” Mei interjected. “It meant he would end up a _beggar_. And if he succeeded in running through half the castle before being caught, then he would become an average soldier, destined for an average life. The lemon peel could use a bit longer in the sugar, by the way. It has just a touch too much sour to it still.”

Su nodded in understanding. “Noted.”

“The apricot’s perfect, though,” Yao said, taking another piece before also grabbing a lemon peel.

“How far did Shang run before he was caught?” Chien-Po inquired, his head tilted curiously.

Su started giggling uncontrollably, leaving Mei to finish the story. “He managed to make it all the way to the throne room,” she continued, cheeks turning red, “where our fathers, along with some visiting kings, were holding a conference.”

Chien-Po looked mortified, but Yao looked absolutely delighted by this information.

Mei wiped her fingers on the inside of her sleeve before once again gently forcing Yao to stand upright so she could continue measuring him. “His father was beyond embarrassed by his antics, but the Emperor and the visiting kings couldn’t stop laughing,” she said. “After all, Shang _was_ only five. They knew the mischief children could get into, especially when they’ve managed to escape the watchful eye of their nurse.”

“I do hope Shang didn’t get in trouble,” Chien-Po murmured, still wearing a hint of a frown.

“Oh, he didn’t,” Su chirped. “Ting-Ting and Mei did, though!”

Sighing at the memory, Mei jotted down a number. “Yes…I had to scrub floors for a _week_. I was only seven!”

“Ting-Ting had to wash dishes,” Su reminded her with a shrug. “She was only ten.” She then grinned broadly. “I wasn’t part of it, so I didn’t get in trouble.”

“ _You_ were only _four_ ,” Mei blandly told her, a brow raised. “You could hardly stop—no. Now is _not_ the time for an argument. I have to finish measuring Yao and then coerce Zhu into her dress.” She shook her head before kneeling down to measure Yao’s legs.

“We need to get back to our work as well,” Chien-Po reminded Su. “Before the sugar burns.”

Su’s face paled somewhat and her eyes widened. “That’s right. I left it over the heat, didn’t I?” With a squeak, she turned and bolted from the room.

A fond, amused smile came to Chien-Po’s lips and he lightly shook his head. “Don’t burn yourself!” he called after her. He then looked at Mei and Yao. “Thank you for your input, by the way. It was most helpful.”

Yao dismissively waved at him. “So long as we get t’ eat good food, I’m fine with bein’ a tester,” he chuckled. “Just don’t do anythin’ too weird like…puttin’ yak milk in tea or somethin’.” He frowned slightly as he watched Chien-Po become filled with intrigue.

“I would have never thought of that,” he admitted. “Though, I’ve never had yak milk. I wonder if it’s similar to cow’s milk?”

Mei quietly giggled as Yao groaned, “What’ve I done…?”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! I had a crazy busy weekend.

Finally, it had _rained_.

It had only been a light rain that had lasted for a few hours, but it had been enough to dampen the earth. The air was now heavy with petrichor—a pleasant change from the dry, dustiness that had been the norm for the last month. Many plants, bleached and dried out from the summer sun, now stood straighter and looked healthier than they had the previous night.

“Doesn’t it smell lovely today?”

“It does. If only the rains could stay a little longer! One day isn’t enough of a reprieve from the heat.”

“The heat would not be so bad if there was a bit of wind. When covered in sweat from working all day, a bit of wind can feel like a winter blizzard.”

Ting-Ting smiled, her brow rising as she looked across the barn at her sister. “I’ll take your word for it. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten _that_ sweaty before.”

“And, with luck, you never will.” Zhi came over, setting an empty bucket down beside the grain bin. “The smell is _atrocious_.”

Zhu nodded in agreement. “Especially if you are around a group of people and none of you have bathed for a week.”

Ting-Ting scrunched her nose up in disgust. “Is _that_ what Moo-Shung smelled like?”

“Moo-Shung smelled pleasant compared to the smell of thousands of sweaty, unwashed Huns.”

Zhi sighed and brushed some stray hair from her face. “I do not miss those days _at all_.” She looked around the barn, inspecting it. Thanks to the horses and oxen being out in the pasture the last few days, it was fairly clean. Ting-Ting was sweeping wood shavings into a pile near her workbench while Zhu oiled one of the saddles. “But, I will admit that living in a yurt could be much cooler during the summer. Something about the way they’re built…”

“Not all yurts,” Zhu told her. “The double-walled yurts are the ones that stay cool. The air between the layers acts as a sort of barrier, keeping the heat out during summer and the heat in during winter.” Setting aside the oiling cloth, she felt along the leather, feeling for any spots she may have missed.

“What kind did you have?” Ting-Ting asked.

“I did not have a yurt of my own, though the one I shared with Ruga and Roua was a single wall.” Finding a dry spot, she started to rub it down with the cloth. “I wish it had been a double-walled one, especially when it stormed. They were not as loud when there were strong winds.”

Zhi set her pitchfork against the wall. “But there was hardly any privacy. Everything was done in that one, single room. And having to pack up and lay out so many carpets and tapestries every time we had to move was _such_ a pain!”

Zhu smiled. “I will admit, that is one of the few things I _disliked_ about living in a yurt,” she admitted. “But I still prefer yurts to houses.”

“What were the other dislikes you had?” Ting-Ting asked, amusement in her voice.

“How the smoke could sometimes waft around the room instead of through the vent hole and how easy it was to hear some of the louder Huns having sex.”

“Zhu!” Zhi gasped, eyes wide in mortification.

Ting-Ting, however, started laughing. “You’re joking!”

Shaking her head, Zhu once more felt along the saddle for any dry spots. “The walls are cloth, not mud and brick. You can insulate well against the weather, but you cannot insulate well against sounds. Especially those made by aro—”

“That’s enough of _that_ subject, young lady,” Zhi interjected, her eyes closed and her hand over her forehead. “How is the saddle oiling coming along?”

“Well enough. This one is almost done.” She blew some strands of hair out of her face. “How are the stalls looking?”

At that, Zhi chuckled. “There wasn’t much we had to do,” she informed. “You keep this place clean enough that there were only a few dung piles and some stale feed to pick up.”

“Most of the mess that was in here was mine,” Ting-Ting chuckled. “I’m tempted to leave this pile of shavings here until your sight gets back; it’s the largest one I’ve made!” Despite her words, she was starting to sweep the shavings into a bucket laying on its side.

“I do not doubt it. How large was the block of wood you picked out?” A small, teasing smile was on her lips as she turned her head in Ting-Ting’s direction.

“It _was_ three feet tall,” she grinned, “but now it is just a bit shorter, but much thinner than the original width—which was about a foot.”

Zhi walked over to Zhu, taking the saddle from her. “What is your carving going to be of this time?” With her free hand, she helped her daughter stand up before taking the saddle back to its storage spot.

She shrugged. “To be honest, I’m not quite sure yet. I think I will just let the wood direct me with this one.” Glancing up, she looked at the block, which was now partially carved into a sort of bent, cylindrical shape. “Maybe a dancer? Or some sort of bird…” She went back to sweeping the shavings into the bucket.

Chuckling, Zhi cocked a brow. “Well, whatever you end up creating, I cannot wait to see it. I’m sure it will be just as lovely as your other carvings.”

“I hope,” Ting-Ting shrugged. “It’ll make it easier to sell someday.”

“Now, dear, you know full well that you don’t have to sell your carvings if you don’t want to,” Zhi lightly scolded. “Not while we’re here, at least.”

“But we do not know how _long_ we’ll be here for,” Ting-Ting reminded her. “We could be here for a few months, a year, two years—we _don’t_ know.” Sighing, she stood upright and rested her weight on the broom handle. “And even if we do leave, it may not be to go home. We may end up being married off to kings in other parts of China. Father may have no choice but to marry at least one of us off to a Mongol prince.”

Zhi gave her a pitying look. “Ting-Ting, you know I would never let your father do that.”

“But you may not have a choice,” she argued. “What if it’s the only way to prevent another war?”

Going over to her, Zhi set her hands on her shoulders. “Ting-Ting, my dear, your father sent us here to be kept safe and hidden away,” she told her, voice filled with comfort. “He will do all within his power to keep you and your sisters close to your loved ones.”

Ting-Ting sighed, her gaze falling towards the ground. “I know,” she murmured. “But, whether you want to admit it or not, there is still a possibility of it happening.”

It took all of Zhu’s willpower to not speak; her mind was racing with various schemes that could keep his sisters from being married off. Many of them would be considered scandalous and only work to bring dishonor to her sisters. A few of them would end up with her sisters hating her, but it would at least leave her mother in charge. There was even a plan that could, possibly, end up with her having _somewhat_ of a happy ending—but that would work _only_ as a last resort.

All three women looked towards the barn door as they heard Chien-Po calling for them.

“I guess it’s time for dinner,” Zhi sighed. She gave Ting-Ting a small smile before starting to lead her away from the pile of shavings. “Let’s go get washed up. I think Su said they were making roast duck for dinner tonight.” As they passed by Zhu, she reached over and set her hand on her shoulder, leading her off as well.

 

~*~

 

She wanted to sneeze. _Badly_.

Despite the annoyingly strong tickling sensation in her nose, Zhu fought back the urge to sneeze. It was a struggle; the temple was filled with heavy, perfumed incensed. But even though she didn’t want to be there, she also didn’t want to seem disrespectful.

The last thing she needed was to anger someone else’s gods.

“Are you alright?” Chien-Po asked, voice quiet. “You rather look upset.”

“I am trying not to sneeze,” she said, eyes uselessly trying to find his face. She was thankful he had offered to escort her to the temple; she had had the feeling that, if she had asked Yao or Ling, they would have only helped her into the room before going to wait outside. “…And I don’t really want to be here,” she admitted.

He reached over and set his hand on her shoulder. “It is understandable,” he told her. “Seeking help can be a daunting task, especially when it has failed in the past.”

She slowly nodded. Her stomach was beginning to twist and churn with nerves. Part of her wanted to tell him that she didn’t feel comfortable in temples—regardless of the reason—but she thought it best to keep that to herself. “Thank you. For coming with me, I mean.”

“You’re welcome.” Though she couldn’t see it, she could tell he wore a smile.

“…Do I need to bow to the monk?”

“You don’t _have_ to, but it would be the polite thing to do.”

“And are there any special honorifics I need to keep in mind? Or do monks go by just their given names?”

He cocked his head, frowning slightly. “Have you not been taught any of this? Your mother said you’ve been to temples before.”

She rubbed the back of her neck. “I have, but I was never the one doing the talking…and, to be honest, the last time I went to one, I was still recovering from—from—well, you know.” She half-heartedly shrugged and turned her head downwards. “At the time, I was more concerned with how much my head was hurting or how my back felt like it was made of wood than with how to properly address a monk.” Scrunching her nose up slightly, she used the inside of her sleeve to wipe it.

“That explains it.” There was a bit of a chuckle to his voice. “A good, general title to use would be ‘Sifu’—it means ‘master teacher’. For example, we are currently waiting to see Sifu Bingwen.”

“Thank you.” She felt him give her shoulder a gentle pat before hearing the hinges of a door creak open. Unconsciously, she sat up straighter and stiffened.

“Ah, Chien-Po!” The voice belonged to that of a middle-aged man. “Good to see you again! And I see you’ve brought a friend along with you this time.”

Both Chien-Po and Zhu bowed to the monk. “I have,” the former replied. “Sifu Bingwen, this is Zhu—one of my friends I spoke of.”

“The one with the nightmares? Yes, I remember you speaking of her.”

Zhu felt her cheeks grow a bit warm. “Thank you for agreeing to see me,” she said, voice quiet. Her stomach continued to churn and she found herself glad she hadn’t eaten breakfast that morning.

“I only hope I can provide you with some help,” Bingwen said. “Now, why don’t you tell me why these nightmares of yours are so troubling?”

She took a deep breath, trying to get her stomach to calm down. “To be honest, Chien-Po has helped quite a bit with the nightmares already by making me a paper talisman,” she began. Her itching nose didn’t help her feel any better. “But when the talisman isn’t at hand and I _do_ end up having a particularly… _violent_ nightmare, I usually wake up with some form of injury.”

“How bad of an injury?”

“They can vary. Sometimes it will just be a split lip. Other times, bruises on my arms or legs. Most recently, though, I had awakened to find my neck bruised and covered in blood.” Closing her eyes, she paused for a moment. “I’ve been to other temples, where they told me that it just…happens sometimes. An injury a person receives in their dreams can be transferred to their living body, but in a much milder fashion, they said.”

Chien-Po shifted next to her and made a quiet, concerned sound.

“While that is correct,” Bingwen told her, “there are also certain circumstances that could also explain the correlation between your nightmares and your injuries. For example: You could be suffering from manifestations of guilt or anger and the injuries are a result of you ‘punishing’ yourself.

“Or, you could have managed to draw someone’s ire,” he continued, “and you could be suffering from a curse they had placed upon you. Lastly—and this is the least likely, to be perfectly honest—is that some sort of evil magic has become attached to you,” Bingwen said, drawing her from her thoughts. “Whether directly or indirectly, it doesn’t matter. Once a person is exposed to such magic, it can drive them to insanity. And if not insanity, then it would send them into a bloodlust.”

Beside her, Chien-Po grew tense. “And how are those causes resolved?” she asked, brows deeply furrowed.

“Rituals and ceremonies can be done to cleanse you of whichever one is ailing you, though they may not work. Though, as I said, that is the least likely of the three to be the cause.”

Zhu stiffened ever so slightly once more. ‘I don’t want any rituals done to me,’ she thought. ‘I don’t need a bunch of monks chanting and filling my senses with incense, sending me into a delirium…’

Chien-Po cleared his throat. “I believe it is guilt that is the root of Zhu’s problems,” he stated. “Either guilt or a curse, though I doubt it is the latter.”

“Do you think that either of those is a possibility, Zhu?”

For a moment, she said nothing. It made sense; she and Ting-Ting had already discussed the possibility of the nightmares stemming from guilt. But who was to say she hadn’t made some enemy somewhere in the world who placed a curse on her?

‘No,’ she told herself. ‘Umut would have been able to stop that, just like she was able to stop Hayabusa. These must come from Qi’s death…his death and my ‘rebirth’…’

Rubbing the back of her neck, she let out a quiet sigh. “Guilt is the most likely cause, yes,” she finally said. She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth as she, once again, resisted the urge to sneeze.

“And do you know what kind of event led to you feeling this guilt?” Bingwen questioned. “I understand if you wish to be vague; such things can be hard to tell strangers.”

She felt Chien-Po’s hand come to rest on her shoulder once more; she wondered if he looked more worried or depressed. “I caused an unjust death only to be given a second chance at life,” she admitted. Chien-Po gave her a gentle, reassuring squeeze when she let out a shaky breath. “Before I became blind, I was a mercenary. Of all the lives I took from this earth—and believe me when I say there were _hundreds_ —there was only _one_ I truly regret taking. Ever since I learned of who he was, he’s haunted me.”

The monk made a sound, but she couldn’t decipher what sort of sound it was. It could have been shock, but it could have also been disapproval. Regardless, Bingwen didn’t speak for many minutes.

Zhu was just beginning to think he would turn her away in disgust when he finally spoke again. “There are a number of different ceremonies that could be performed on you that would help rid you of the manifestation,” he told her. “They would be the easy thing to do. There is another method, though it can be quite difficult to achieve.”

“And that would be…?”

“Self-forgiveness.”

Her brows furrowed and she frowned. “…Self-forgiveness?” she repeated, voice heavy with confusion. She mentally begged her nose to stop itching; it was becoming unbearably annoying and made it hard to concentrate.

“Yes.” There was the sound of rustling cloth as Bingwen changed his position. _You_ are unable to forgive _yourself_ for taking that man’s life and, as such, you continually punish yourself by having these nightmares that end with you being injured in the waking world. _That_ is why it is the harder of the two methods—because you have to truly believe in your forgiveness, whereas the rituals would merely hide that feeling away in the depths of your mind.”

Her frown grew in size. “I don’t think I will _ever_ be able to forgive myself,” she murmured. “But I do not like the idea of magic being done on me, either…”

“An understandable concern,” Bingwen assured her. “Magic can be a tricky thing, even if done by someone who has already performed it hundreds of times before. Ultimately, however, it is _you_ who must decide on how to proceed—which you may take your time doing.”

Rubbing the back of her neck, she slowly nodded. “Thank you.”

“Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Actually, there is.” She heard Chien-Po make a small ‘hm?’ noise. “Do you know anything about—anything about people sharing dreams?”

“Sharing dreams?” She didn’t like his puzzled tone. “Do you mean two people having the same dream? Or are you speaking of something different?”

“As in two people are sharing a dream and are able to interact with one another as if they were awake and in the same room,” she explained, “when, in fact, they’re asleep and hundreds of miles apart.”

It wasn’t Bingwen who answered her. “ _I_ have heard of such things,” Chien-Po said, voice quiet. He sounded unsure of himself. “Or rather, I have _read_ about them.”

“Please explain, then,” Bingwen urged, “because I haven’t heard of such a phenomenon.”

Chien-Po shifted slightly. “It isn’t an occurrence that happens regularly, but when it does, it’s _always_ with people who share some sort of strong bond with one another. The bond could be familial, friendship, or even romantic.”

Feeling her stomach drop, Zhu closed her eyes and slowly exhaled through her nose. ‘I wouldn’t call what is between me and Mundzuc a ‘bond’, let alone friendly _or_ romantic…’ she thought. ‘But at least I now know what he meant when he spoke to me.’

“Is there a way to _stop_ them from happening?” she asked aloud.

“I’m not sure—well, that is a bit of a lie. There is one, for-sure way to prevent them and that is if one of the dream sharers passes away.”

She was quiet for a moment. “I see,” she murmured. Her brow rose somewhat when the creaking of door hinges filled the air and someone entered the room.

“Forgive the intrusion,” another monk, this one a great deal younger, apologized, “but Master Bingwen is needed in the garden. One of the monks-in-training requires his immediate assistance.”

Bingwen made a sound of concern. “I will be there shortly,” he told the younger man. Then, he spoke to Zhu and Chien-Po once more, “I am sorry I couldn’t have been of more help regarding the shared dreams. However, should you decide to have the ritual performed to rid yourself of the nightmares, please let me know. I would be more than happy to see you through it.”

Zhu leaned forward, bowing. “Thank you. What information you were able to give was a great help to me.”

Having bade them farewell, Bingwen left the room. Zhu used her walking stick to help her stand, hearing Chien-Po getting to his feet beside her. They, too, left the room and made their way to the temple’s entrance.

The moment they stepped outside, Zhu _finally_ allowed herself to sneeze. Chien-Po couldn’t help but laugh at the sound; he had expected her sneezes to be deep and loud. Instead, they were a surprisingly small and high-pitched ‘tchyu’—a sound that didn’t match her appearance whatsoever.

“ _Don’t_ you say a word about this to _anyone_. Least of all, Ling,” she grumbled before sneezing again.

“I promise I won’t,” he chuckled. “I’m sure he will find out on his own soon enough, however.”

She sighed. “Spirits, I hope not…I suffered enough teasing to last me a lifetime when my sisters heard me sneeze for the first time.” Shaking her head, she let him help her down a short flight of stairs.

“Then you best hope you do not catch a cold come autumn and winter.”

She gave a long, unamused look in his direction, though said nothing. As they reached the bottom of the steps and started walking towards the gate, she could hear the hustle and bustle of the town growing louder and louder. Swallowing hard, she steeled herself for the onslaught of noise she was about to be met with.

Feeling her tense up, Chien-Po frowned worriedly. “We could take the back streets if you would like,” he offered.

“No. I need to get used to this.” She then ‘looked’ up at him, a half-hearted smile on her lips. “I would prefer to have my sight when I go through the back streets, anyway. You never know what kind of trouble lurks there.”

He nodded in understanding. “If you insist.”

Though she looked as stoic as ever, inside, Zhu’s heart was racing and she found breathing to be a bit difficult. Her palms became sweaty, making it a bit hard to keep a good grip on her walking stick. Chickens squawked and crowed in wooden cages while dogs barked and pigs grunted. The voices of people blended together in one, loud murmur; she could only make out fragmented bits of conversation at a time. Her eyes darted left and right in their sockets, uselessly trying to see the faces around her.

Despite it all, however, Tianshui was not even _close_ to being as loud as the Imperial City.

Closing her eyes, she forced herself to concentrate on her breathing. It helped, somewhat. The deep breaths she inhaled and held helped to bring her heart back to a normal pace and she found herself focusing less on the noise.

Continuing to walk alongside her, he found himself only having to physically help guide her once or twice when there was a pothole or some playing children. For the most part, the people of Tianshui were courteous and stepped aside when they saw the pair coming towards them—at least, he _hoped_ it was them being courteous and not wary of his stature.

 

By the time they got back to the house, it was nearing noon and they could smell meat being roasted. She thanked Chien-Po for his help that morning, following him to the main house. Her stomach long-since calmed, Zhu felt it begin to ache in hunger. Before she had the chance to head inside, however, a voice called out to her.

“Zhu! There you are!” It was Mulan.

Turning, she tilted her head. “Hey, Mulan,” she smiled, feeling something within her flutter a bit. Her brows furrowed ever so slightly; why did that happen? Was it just some leftover bits of anxiety from town? No; she had managed to calm down entirely by now…

“I was wondering when you’d get back,” Mulan said, stopping just a few feet from her. “Have you eaten yet?”

Her brow rose, a bit confused. “No. Should I have?”

Laughing, Mulan carefully took her by the arm and started to lead her back across the courtyard. “No,” she smiled. “Mother made some of her ‘famous’ soup dumplings and I remembered that you hadn’t gotten to try them yet. We’ve already eaten our fill, so I thought you could have some of the leftovers.”

“Oh, thanks the spirits,” Zhu grinned. “I’m _starving_. I did not eat breakfast this morning, so my stomach has been trying to eat itself the last half-hour.”

“And why didn’t you eat?” Her tone sounded a bit scolding.

“Nerves.”

Mulan slowed her pace and Zhu could tell she was looking at her with concern. “What made _you_ nervous?”

A half-hearted smile came to her lips. “I visited the temple today,” she explained, “to ask a monk about my nightmares.”

“Were you able to get help? Here comes a step. There you go.”

“I…got quite a bit of help, actually. I was actually told that there are ways to be rid of the nightmares for good.”

Her eyes widened and she smiled. “That’s great! What are the ways?”

“Well, I could have some magic rituals performed on me to lock away the root cause of the nightmares.” Zhu started to smell food, making her stomach growl. “Or I can somehow manage to forgive myself.”

“…Forgive yourself? What does that mean? Another step, this one a bit higher.”

She cautiously stepped up. “The cause of my nightmares is guilt,” she said, voice quiet now. “Over killing Qi.” She felt Mulan wince slightly.

“That’s understandable,” she sighed, starting to lead Zhu through the house. “But…Yao, Ling, and Chien-Po have forgiven you. Surely that must lessen the guilt _slightly_?”

“No. Not when I was given a second chance and he wasn’t.” She jumped as a dog suddenly barked at her; a few seconds later, she could feel it running in circles around her feet. “Little Brother, you need to learn some manners,” she chuckled.

“I’m sorry,” Mulan giggled, apologizing on the dog’s behalf. “He’s _so_ attention starved of late now that my mother is spending time with your mother at your home.” Using her foot, she gently ushered him away from Zhu’s feet so she could guide her to the table.

Zhu smiled. “Oh, the poor thing. A good thing you brought me over, then. Not only do I get to eat your leftovers, but I can give your dog a much-needed belly-rub.” Carefully, she sat down on a cushion, allowing Mulan to take her staff from her. Almost instantly, Little Brother leapt into her lap and started licking her face.

“Little Brother!” Mulan tried to scold him, but her amusement was all-too obvious. “Let her get settled, you silly thing!” Reaching over, she poured Zhu a cup of tea.

“It is perfectly fine,” Zhu laughed, turning her head away from the barrage of doggy kisses. She grinned, managing to lift him up only to flop him across her lap, belly-up. As she started to rub his belly, she could feel his tail happily swatting her leg. “Like you said, he is just attention starved.” She thanked Mulan when she was handed the tea.

“More like spoiled rotten!” Grandma Fa had entered the room. “That little brat had the audacity to guilt me into letting him sleep in my bed last night only to let out a fart so rancid, I had to leave the room!”

Mulan and Zhu burst out laughing. “It’s entirely your fault, you know,” Mulan giggled. “ _You_ were the one who gave him some vegetable scraps!”

Grandma Fa set a plate down in front of Zhu. “Who else could I feed them to? The chickens? There wasn’t enough for all of them and they’d fight to the death over them.”

“You _could_ have given them to Khan,” Mulan gently reminded her, still smiling.  Her brow rose as she watched Little Brother wriggle into a slightly more comfortable position in Zhu’s lap while she took a drink of tea.

“I _could_ have,” Grandma Fa said, her hands on her hips, “if he wasn’t too busy makin’ babies with that mare of Zhu’s.”

Zhu’s eyes shot open and she started to cough and splutter as she choked on the tea. Mulan cursed and took the teacup from her before patting her on the back. “ _What_ did you just say?!” she managed to wheeze after a few minutes.

“You didn’t know?” She sounded surprised. “They were out in plain sight in the pasture yesterday afternoon!”

Mulan closed her eyes, sighing. “Grandma, Zhu’s blind right now. She wouldn’t have been able to see— _that_.”

“Blind!? I may be old, but I’m not senile, Mulan,” she scolded. “I know Zhu can see just as well as you and me. …Well, probably a bit better than me, but you know what I mean.”

“It is a bit of a complicated story,” Zhu spoke, a guilty smile on her lips, “but, I assure you, I _am_ blind right now.”

Grandma Fa made a ‘hm’ sound and leaned over, scrutinizing Zhu’s face. “Well, your eyes do look different,” she stated, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “They’re not black like normal. What’d you do, keep your eyes open as a firework exploded next to you or something?”

Zhu rubbed the back of her neck. “That is…a very close guess, actually,” she admitted. She felt her cheeks grow warm.

“How about we let Zhu eat before you interrogate her, alright Grandma?” Mulan suggested. “We don’t need her choking to death on one of mother’s dumplings.”

“Spoil sport,” Grandma frowned.


	17. Chapter 17

“Now ya lift the cup _just_ enough t’ see the numbers on your dice. Whatever ya see helps ya determine the numbers you’ll call out.”

“Alright.”

“The thing t’ keep in mind is that if the person who goes first doesn’t get called out for a bluff, then ya have to call out something _higher_ than them—but it’s only the total number of dice that has to be higher.” Yao paused to take a drink of tea. “So, for example, I could see that I have…two twos, a three, a four, an’ a five. Judgin’ by my own dice, I could call out ‘two twos’ since I know there are at _least_ that many twos.”

“But then I’d have to call out something different,” Ling added, “like three twos or four fives.”

Zhu slowly nodded, taking in all of the information. “What if someone calls you out?”

“Then everyone reveals their dice an’ see if the person was lyin’. Thus the name ‘Liar’s Dice’.”

At that, Ling grinned. “If the person who called out the numbers _was_ bluffing, then they have to either take a shot of their drink or pay up. But if they _weren’t_ bluffing, then it’s the person who called them out who has to drink or pay up.”

“That makes sense.” She leaned back slightly, taking a drink of her own tea. “So, what did you mean earlier when you stated that ones were special?”

“They’re wildcards!” Yao grinned. “Means they can represent _any_ number.”

Her brow rose. “That…can be really advantageous if someone has made an unbelievable bet.”

Yao grinned broadly. “Exactly! And that’s why ya got t’ do some careful thinkin’ when you’re making your call. Now, let’s do a practice round.”

Gathering up her set of five dice, Zhu placed them in the wooden cup. “By the way…why are you teaching me this game?” She gave the cup a good shake before turning it upside down atop the table. Lifting it ever so slightly, she looked at her dice.

A one, a three, two fours, and a six.

“’Cause Chien-Po doesn’t gamble an’ if there’s three of us at the same table, there’s less chance o’ us losin’ _all_ our money.” He slammed his cup down before peeking at his dice.

Zhu cocked a brow. “Why risk money on games of chance if you do not want to lose it?”

Ling gave her a curious look. “Haven’t you ever gambled before?”

“Not in this fashion, no.” She took another sip of tea.

“What kind o’ gambling did ya do, then?” Yao questioned. “Three threes.” He scratched the side of his neck.

She waited for Ling to make his call. “Four twos,” he said, fingers lightly drumming against the side of his dice cup.

“We would gamble on games of strength or endurance,” she finally answered. “Wrestling, balancing—that sort of thing. Five fours.”

“Liar,” Ling stated. “About the dice, I mean.” Uncovering his dice, he revealed a one, three twos, and two sixes. “Yao and I do gamble on wrestling sometimes.”

Yao uncovered his dice: Two ones, two threes, and a four. “Only three fours. Zhu loses.” He gathered up his dice. “Wrestling can be fun, but it can get _dirty_ if the competitors have had a bit t’ drink.” His brow rose as Zhu smirked.

“Dirty?” she repeated. “You mean _fun_. A slightly drunk person can be unpredictable, making them more of a challenge.” She gathered up her dice and dropped them in her cup. “If a person is sober, you can anticipate what they will do to block you or what they will do to take you down.”

Ling frowned. “So the Huns let women wrestle?”

“Of course they do.” Her brows furrowed. “We fight alongside men in battle; why should we not wrestle, as well? Most times, though, women only wrestle other women.” She shook her cup before once again turning it upside down. “Some of us were allowed to wrestle the men, however.”

“Why’s that?” Yao questioned. He shook his cup and set it down as well, being a bit gentler this time.

“Oh, don’t play innocent,” Ling scolded, copying his actions. “You know full well it’s because of certain _assets_ women have that men don’t.”

Zhu raised her brow, looking at him curiously for a minute. Then, a look of realization came over her features when she figured out what he meant. “That’s right,” she chuckled. “Because we have breasts and men do not. Well, depending on how fat they are, they do not have breasts…” She looked under her cup; two ones, a two, and two threes. “There was also the general risk of playing dirty that would involve the injuring the ‘assets’, as Yao put it.”

“But you were allowed to wrestle men?” Ling questioned. “Four fours.” Again, he was drumming his fingers against his cup.

She nodded. “I and a few other women were allowed because…well…” She shrugged, her cheeks turning a bit red. “We looked like men. Liar, by the way.”

Upon uncovering their dice, it was revealed that Ling had had three fours and Yao had another two. Zhu made a mental note that the finger-drumming was not Ling’s tell.

“Well, I suppose that’s a good reason why, then,” Yao shrugged, gathering his dice yet again. A glint suddenly came to his eye. “I just got a _brilliant_ idea that’d make us a lot o’ money real fast.”

Ling gave him a wary look. “Now you’ve got me worried.”

“Don’t be. It’ll work like a charm,” Yao grinned. “Zhu binds her chest up an’ we enter her in a few wrestlin’ matches. She acts like she’s strugglin’ a bit at first so folks place all their money on the other guy while we place our bets on her. Then bam! She slams him down and pins him, winnin’ the match an’ winnin’ _us_ a lot o’ money!”

“That…really is brilliant!” Ling laughed. He looked at Zhu, a wide smile on his lips. “What do you say, Zhu? You willing to do some wrestling?”

“We’d split the money with ya, o’ course,” Yao quickly added.

For some reason, Zhu felt a bit hurt by Yao’s words. But why? He hadn’t said anything offensive. Or, rather, he hadn’t said anything that was _meant_ to be offensive…

“If it means I would be shirtless, then I would rather not,” she replied, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Ya won’t have to be!” Yao assured her. “If the shirt you’re wearin’ is tight enough, that’ll be enough proof for whoever’s arranging the wrestlin’ matches.”

Zhu looked away, hand still on the back of her neck as she remained silent. Ling glanced between her and Yao, a frown coming to his lips.

“Hey,” he said, setting his hand on Zhu’s shoulder. “If it’ll make you uncomfortable, you don’t have to do it. You can stick with Liar’s Dice and we’ll make Yao do the wrestling.” From the corner of his eye, he could see Yao opening his mouth to protest. He shot him a warning look that made him close his mouth almost instantly.

Zhu gave him a small, thankful smile. “It is fine,” she told him. “I would just like my back to remain covered is all. But if I can wear a shirt during the matches, I think I will be alright.”

Though he found it odd that she wanted to keep her back covered, he smiled. “So long as you’re comfortable with it. That’s what matters, isn’t it, _Yao_?”

Yao quickly nodded, smiling innocently. “Yeh-yeah! O’ course it is. You’re our friend after all. Wouldn’t want ya to be uncomfortable when you’re doin’ us a favor.” He looked her over, a bit of a frown coming to his lips. “Though, I don’t think my original plan will work too well…you’re obviously some sort o’ fighter, so we wouldn’t be able t’ pull off ya struggling.”

“She’ll still be new to the place,” Ling told him, “so she’ll be an underdog for at least a couple of rounds.”

“An’ I guess she could pretend t’ struggle durin’ some parts of the match.” Shrugging, he dumped his dice into his cup. “You’re better at math than me, so I’ll let ya be the one takin’ bets on her while I’m over at the dice table.”

Ling nodded in understanding. “Sounds good.” He then looked at Zhu, finding her looking over one of her dice. “Does it sound good to you, Zhu?”

“It sounds like an odd plan to earn money,” she admitted. “The three of you are paid rather well by my mother; why risk losing some of it?”

The two men looked at one another, exchanging confused looks. Then, shrugging, Yao grabbed his teacup. “’Cause it’s fun,” he said before finishing his tea.

“And it’s a quick way to make some money when you’re out of a job,” Ling added. “Yeah, we have jobs _now_ , but who’s to say it’ll last forever? When we’re done watching your sisters, we don’t know if we’ll be sent back to Moo-Shung or relieved of duty. We need to keep our skills sharp in these games in case worse comes to worst.”

She nodded slowly, finishing off her own tea. “Just…do not let my mother know that you will be gambling. She _abhors_ it.”

“We’ll just tell her we went for a few drinks,” Ling chuckled. “Surely she’d be alright with that?”

“I suppose. I will say that I am going along to make sure you don’t get _too_ drunk.”

“You’re not goin’ t’ do any drinking?” Yao asked, frowning.

Her cheeks turned a bit red. “I am not really a fan of alcohol or how I feel when I am drunk.”

“Huh,” said Ling, a brow raised. “What kind of drunk are you?” He watched as her cheeks grew even darker.

“From what I have heard,” she mumbled, “I am the clingy sort.”

Yao’s eye widened and he let out a hearty laugh. “No—really? _You’re_ the clingy sort o’ drunk?” he grinned. “Now we _have_ t’ get ya drunk t’ see what that’s like!”

She gave him a bland look, her brow lifting just a bit. “And if you do, I’ll be sure to cling onto _you_ so you can know just how hard I squeeze,” she retorted. “I am sure I wouldn’t break _all_ of your ribs—just most of them.” She watched as Yao winced at her words.

It was Ling who now laughed. “Hey! Sassy Zhu’s come back!” he lightly teased. “I was wondering if she was gone for good.”

“Not gone,” she said, a slight smirk coming to her lips. “Just biding her time.”

 

~*~

 

Tianshui was a completely different town once the sun set.

The streets, normally filled with hustle and bustle, were now practically empty. Most of the buildings were dark, their owners either asleep or having returned to their homes. Stray animals wandered about, sniffing out the odd scrap of food forgotten by a market vendor.

However, there was still one part of town that was full of life: On the western edge of the city, a single street was bathed in lantern light and filled with the sounds of laughter and merriment. There was a small crowd gathered in the center of the street and she could see two men trying to wrestle one another to the ground.

As she looked around, Zhu found herself surprised by how _civil_ this place seemed. In other parts of the world, she had witnessed drunken men brawling over petty arguments as well as relieving themselves in the middle of the street or getting ‘serviced’ by a prostitute in plain sight. But here, she could hear snippets of intelligent—albeit tipsy—conversations and there was hardly anything resembling a brawl.

The women, she noticed, also looked nothing like the prostitutes and tavern wenches she had seen in the far west; here, they were well dressed and many of them weren’t flirting at all. Instead, they were engaged in deep conversation with male patrons or they were performing dances.

She wasn’t even sure if they _were_ prostitutes.

“So, what do ya think?” Yao asked, giving her thigh a small nudge. He and Ling were both dressed in some of their nicer clothes; earlier, she had questioned why. But seeing this place made her realize that she had probably underdressed.

“It…is different than what I was expecting,” she answered, looking around. “I was expecting it to be more…rowdy and crude.”

Ling looked at her, confused. “Rowdy and crude?” he repeated. “What _kind_ of brothels and taverns have you been to?! They’re places of intelligent conversation and thoughtful gambling!”

“The ones I have seen are places of extreme vulgarity.” She continued to look around, amazed. “At least, once you go past the Black Sea, they become such. I never visited taverns in the Pala Empire or the Tibetan Empire…I don’t even know if they _had_ taverns.”

Yao shook his head. “Then it’s a good thing we brought ya with us tonight. You’ll get t’ learn about some o’ the more—the more _fun_ aspects o’ being a civilian.”

Her brow rose, not impressed by his words. “You mean _you_ will get to have fun at the dice tables while I earn money wrestling.”

“Well, when you put it _that_ way,” Ling chuckled. “You won’t be wrestling _all_ night. That just wouldn’t be fair. You’ll do two or three, then you can spend the rest of the evening playing dice, drinking, or speaking with one of the prostitutes.”

She shrugged, though she said nothing. Something told her that she would be avoided more than anything—especially once she won however many matches Ling arranged for her. With a quiet sigh, she rubbed her stomach, able to feel the wide bandages binding down her breasts.

‘I didn’t realize how tight they would have to be,’ she thought. ‘I would have thought my breasts were small enough to need only minimal binding…’ She couldn’t wait to get home and take them off. It didn’t help that she had wanted to be cautious, and so she ended up wrapping from her breasts down to her navel. ‘If worse comes to worst, only a little bit of my back will be shown…and it won’t be the worst part of it, either.’

“This is where I bid the two o’ ya goodbye,” Yao said when they reached the crowd in the middle of the street. “Hopefully, the next time I see ya, I’ll have a heavier purse!” He grinned cheekily before lightly punching Zhu’s arm. “Good luck with your wrestlin’, kid.”

“Good luck with your dice games,” she replied, giving him a small smile. She then looked to Ling. “Is it alright if I watch a few rounds first? So I can see how the wrestling here is done.”

“Oh, yeah! Of course! If you need anything explained, just let me know. I know the rules like the back of my hand.” He smiled guiltily and rubbed the back of his neck. “I…may have used to want to be a wrestler when I was younger.”

She tilted her head. “Really?”

He nodded before looking across the crowd to the wrestlers. “Yeah. Obviously, I never got to be one. I’m just too skinny and not nearly strong enough.”

She shrugged. “Not necessarily true. I knew plenty of people your size who defeated people my size and larger.”

The look on his face let her know that he didn’t believe her in the slightest. “Yeah, and the moon is made of cheese.”

“The moon is _what_?” Frowning, she shook her head. “Never mind. I am not lying, by the way. People your size tend to be faster and more flexible. You can wriggle your way out of certain holds with greater ease. We actually had to start segregating groups of wrestlers by their sizes because a lot of us who were bigger kept getting our asses handed to us by the ones your size.”

He stared at her for a minute. “Huh. You’re really not lying, are you?”

An almost remorseful look came to her eyes, but she spoke sincerely. “I do not lie anymore. Not to my friends.”

“So, want to hear the rules?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Please.”

Listening to the rules, she found that they were a bit different from the ones she knew. Instead of one, lengthy round lasting up to half an hour, there were three rounds per match with whoever won two out of three rounds being the victor. The deciding factor in who was the winner and who was the loser was still the same, however: The first person who was either thrown off of the dirt platform (which Ling called a ‘lei tai’) or pinned into submission was the loser.

‘Sounds simple enough,’ she thought, crossing her arms over her chest. She nodded to Ling as he excused himself to go get a drink. ‘Not quite as hard as getting a person to show their navel to the sky, but it still seems to be fun enough.’ Moving through the crowd, she brought herself closer to the lei tai to get a better look at her potential opponents.

Most of the people were of average size and build, though a handful of men stood out. Three of them were large both in height and in width; Zhu thought two of the three looked rather ugly with sparse beards and balding heads. The other men varied in their ages and their sizes, though most of them seemed to be around the same age as her and they made her think of Shang with their confident walks and (supposedly-attractive) strong jaws.

‘I guess they are a bit handsome,’ she thought, brow rising ever so slightly. ‘But I don’t think they’re what _I_ find attractive, as Mulan put it…” Sighing, she shook her head. ‘I don’t need to be thinking about this right now. Even if I _wanted_ to court someone, I couldn’t. The Emperor would just find a way to ruin things…’

She looked at the lei tai in time to watch one of the wrestlers get slammed down onto it. His opponent had him in a painful looking hold and there was a bit of blood beginning to ooze out of his nose. Her brows furrowed; the bigger man wore a wicked sneer as he mocked his opponent’s abilities.

When the referee called out that he had won, the crowd erupted into yells and cheers. The larger man—who Zhu noticed was about the size of Edeco—grinned cockily and walked around the lei tai, his arms raised in victory. He shouted out a challenge for more people to test their might against him. Behind him, Zhu could see a man doling money out to people who had won their bets.

A man about the same age as she stepped up to the lei tai, a determined look on his face. She winced as the noise of the crowd got louder but focused on watching the match that was about to unfold. The younger man bowed to the larger one, who only half-bowed in return.

It was over in less than five minutes. The larger man, who she learned was named Duyi thanks to the cheering crowd, managed to get the younger one pinned to the ground twice before simply shoving him backwards off the lei tai for their final round.

‘Horrible sportsmanship,’ Zhu thought, eyes narrowed. ‘That man has _no_ respect and is beyond arrogant.” Her lip pulled back ever so slightly in a sneer. ‘He’s like if Mundzuc, Edeco, and my uncle were merged into one being…No, even worse: He’s like _Tingfei_.’

She looked around, looking to see if Ling had come back yet. Seeing that he hadn’t, she let out a quiet sigh and frowned. ‘I hope he comes back soon…Money or no money; if that man keeps acting like this, I’ll have no choice but to teach him some humility.’

Another competitor stepped up to the lei tai. He was almost as large as Duyi, though he had more of a stomach. He also proved to be a bit more of a challenge for Duyi; the two were nearly equal in their strength. Zhu watched as they fought to grab hold of one another, grunting and cursing the whole time.

Then, Duyi was shoved outside the lei tai boundary. The crowd, shocked by this, grew quiet; Zhu smirked. It didn’t last long, however: Five minutes into the second round, Duyi had pinned his competitor to the ground.

Ling returned during the third round, his cheeks pink and a silly grin on his face. “Sorry I took so long,” he apologized. “I got caught up in talking with a prostitute.”

Zhu cocked her brow. “It is fine,” she told him. “I was hoping you would return soon. Depending on who wins this round, I will be fighting next.”

“Oh? Who are you hoping to fight?”

She let out a sigh as Duyi slammed his opponent to the ground a second time. “ _Him_ ,” she replied, watching as Duyi didn’t bother helping his opponent up before urging the crowd to cheer even more for him.

“Who else wants to test their mettle against the Great Duyi!?” Duyi shouted, a sneer on his face. The crowd went quiet as he looked around, seeing most of the men balking at his challenge. “Is no one brave enough to step forward, then? Or does the Great Duyi have to pick someone to fight him?”

Zhu narrowed her eyes. “The ‘Great’ Duyi needs to shut up if he does not want me to break his jaw,” she called out. As all eyes fell on her, she started walking towards the lei tai.

“ _What_ did you just say to me?” Duyi snarled, looming over her dangerously.

“Deaf _and_ dumb?” she bit back. For the first time, Ling saw, she looked _small._ “Isn’t it a bit cruel, using the village idiot for amusement like this?”

“Brave words from someone about to get crushed under my _pinky_ ,” Duyi growled.

‘Oh gods,’ thought Ling. ‘Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all…’

Rubbing the back of his neck, he watched as Zhu and Duyi half-bowed to one another. As the referee gave them the signal to start, they lunged towards one another. Duyi grabbed onto Zhu’s shoulders, intending to shove her backwards and out of the lei tai. His plan failed, however, as Zhu swung them around and let go of him. His momentum sent him flying off the lei tai.

He landed a few feet from Ling, grunting.

The crowd didn’t know whether to cheer or to jeer.

Duyi was back on his feet within seconds. He stormed back to the lei tai, his face red in anger.

“You got lucky,” he hissed. “You _won’t_ be so lucky this time.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” she replied calmly.

Again, the referee gave the signal. Duyi charged forward, grappling onto Zhu. She grabbed his forearms and swept his legs out from beneath him. Both of them hit the ground, but Zhu recovered faster. She flipped around and took Duyi’s wrists, holding them behind his back. Then, she used her legs to immobilize his legs.

He was pinned.

He had lost the match.

As the crowd stared in shocked silence, she stood up and brushed herself off. Duyi grunted, rolling onto his front and beginning to stand. Zhu offered him a hand up, her face free of any emotion. His, however, was filled with rage.

Snatching her hand, he yanked her towards him. “No one makes a mockery out of the Great Duyi!” he shouted, spinning her around. He hooked his arms under hers and clasped his hands behind her head, laughing as she struggled against him. “What now, little man!? The Great Duyi has you pinned and there’s _nothing_ you can do about it!”

Ling yelped, his eyes wide as he started to hurry forward to help Zhu. ‘Oh gods, oh gods—this was a _horrible_ idea!’ his mind screamed.

Before he could take three steps, however, Zhu threw herself forward, flipping Duyi over her head once again. There was a loud thud as he landed on his back. He wheezed, the wind knocked from his lungs.

As shocked as he was, Ling noticed that Zhu wasn’t using moves that required a great amount of strength—she had been using moves that used Duyi’s size against him. He wanted to ask her why she didn’t simply pick Duyi up and throw him across the street before realizing the answer: If she showed that she was stronger than Duyi, then no one would want to go against her. But by doing what she did, she made it seem like she was of average strength.

‘At least _one_ of us was thinking,’ he thought with a chuckle. ‘I don’t even know what _I_ was thinking when I started rushing forward. There would have been _no_ way for me to take on that guy!’

When Zhu called out a polite challenge to the crowd, he started taking bets. At first, most of the people were betting in favor of Zhu, but after she (purposefully) lost a round here or a round there, more opposing bets came in. By the time she finally lost a match, Ling had managed to make a decent amount of money.

“You were _great_!” he told her as they made their way towards a building. “After you took out that first guy, you managed to keep the crowd hooked!”

She rubbed the back of her neck, sighing. “I think I prefer the wrestling I grew up with,” she admitted, “but, for a one-time thing, it was rather fun.”

He chuckled, his brow rising. “Are you _sure_ it’s just a one-time thing?” he joked. “We could make more money in one night with you wrestling than we could in a week of doing farm work!”

“I am sure,” she told him, voice dry. “Why do you and Yao even need this extra money? Something tells me it isn’t purely for the fun of it…” She watched his cheeks turn a guilty shade of red.

“Alright,” he sighed. “You’re right: It _is_ for something more than fun.” They approached a counter where he ordered them each a cup of wine. “We…wanted to buy the girls a present.”

She tilted her head, giving him a curious look. “A present? What sort of present requires you earn even more money?”

He looked away from her. “Well, we don’t…Yao and I don’t really have access to most of our pay,” he admitted. “Chien-Po keeps it locked away for us. It’s mostly for Yao’s sake, to be honest. As you noticed, he quite enjoys gambling. So much so that we’ve gotten in trouble because of it in the past.” As their wine came, he picked up his cup and took a drink.

“But what of you?” She picked up her cup and looked at its contents with distaste. ‘I hope this tastes better than the wine I had at the palace,’ she thought, giving it a quick sniff. It smelled sweeter and stronger.

“I’m not too bad,” he assured her. “But I… _may_ have overindulged in certain alcoholic drinks a couple of times in the past.”

She frowned, taking a sip of her wine. It tasted _slightly_ better than the wine she had had at the palace, but it was still disgusting. “I would have never taken you for a drunkard.”

He pouted. “I’m _not_ a drunkard,” he stated. “I just—I’m just a social drinker. If I’m with friends, I can’t really stop myself…”

“Hm.” She took another drink of wine. As disgusting as it was, the wrestling had left her parched. “What was the present you were thinking of getting them?”

“Yao wants to get Mei some really expensive lace she’s been apparently been eyeing for weeks,” he explained, “and I was thinking of maybe getting Ting-Ting a couple of new chisels.”

“If you need money,” she said, concern in her voice, “I would be more than happy to give you some.”

Ling shook his head. “No, it’s fine. We’re alright with earning it on our own. It’ll take a little more time, but…” A small, hopeful smile came to his lips as he stared into his cup. “Hopefully it’ll be worth it in the end.”

“You three make my sisters happy,” Zhu told him, voice quiet but full of honesty. “Ever since they met Mulan and the three of you, they have not been able to stop smiling. Before they met you, they were not—they weren’t allowed to be _themselves_. Giving you some money to buy them presents is the _least_ I can do, Ling.” Sighing, she took a long drink of the wine.

“But _you_ may need it,” he argued. “If you gave it to us, then you wouldn’t have much left to spend on yourself.

Her brow rose. “Everything I need is provided by my sisters. Mei makes my clothes—in fact, she _refuses_ to let anyone else make them—and Ting-Ting makes all my arrows for me. If I am hungry, Su makes me food.”

“Yeah, but what if there’s something _you_ wanted? Like…A new pair of boots or—or—I don’t know…some jewelry or something.” He frowned, watching as she finished off her wine. “There’s got to be _something_ you want.”

She shook her head. “The only thing I want is for my friends and my sisters to be happy.”

He stared at her for a moment, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I don’t believe you.”

Zhu frowned. “I told you: I do not lie to my friends anymore.”

“But everyone wants _something_ ,” he argued.

“Then I guess I don’t yet know what I want.” She took a drink of wine, unable to stop her nose from slightly scrunching up.

Shaking his head, Ling turned around and rested his back against the counter. “Has anyone ever told you how _difficult_ you can be?” he asked, chuckling. He drank from his cup, looking around.

“A time or two, yes.”  Looking down into her cup, she swirled the last of its contents and watched the light it reflected shift and change. ‘He’s right,’ she thought. ‘Everyone wants something. But don’t I already have everything I could want? I have a family that I didn’t know existed. I have my friends who have forgiven me for the evils I’ve done. I even have a second chance to experience life. Is there anything else I _could_ want, aside from my loved ones’ happiness…?’ Her brows furrowed and, with a sigh, she drained the last of her wine.

“Careful kid—drink too much o’ that and you’ll be drunk in no time.” Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Yao walking towards them. There was a wide grin on his face and there was an air of pride to his stride.

“Hey,” Ling chuckled. “I take it Liar’s Dice went well?”

Reaching into his sleeve, Yao pulled out his coin-purse. Both Ling and Zhu gawked; it was almost bursting, it was so full. “Why yes it did as a matter o’ fact.” He gave it a little toss before catching it and tucking it back into his sleeve. “An’ how did the wrestling go?”

“Decently,” Zhu replied.

“Didn’t make _nearly_ as much money as you,” Ling admitted, “but still made a decent amount. Maybe we should throw you out on the lei tai and win me some more?” Grinning, he finished off his wine before ordering more.

Yao shrugged. “Ah, that’s fine. If I’ve got any leftover after buyin’ that lace, then I’ll let ya have it. I’m sure I’ve got _way_ more than enough now.” Three cups were set down between Ling and Zhu; he took one. “So, kid, how many matches did ya go through?”

“About five,” she replied. She shoved her refilled cup towards the two of them; she didn’t want anymore. “The style of wrestling here is not my favorite, so I grew bored of it quite fast.”

Looking up at her, Yao cocked his brow. “Huh? How is it boring?! You’re goin’ up against another man, basically tryin’ t’ kill each other in order t’ get one of ya pinned to the ground or thrown off the lei tai!”

She shrugged. “The style I learned involved exposing your opponent’s naval to the sky. There was no boundary, either.”

Ling and Yao exchanged odd looks. “That…sounds really weird,” Ling admitted. “Why the bellybutton?”

“No idea. But it was a good way to vent some stress if you were having a bad day. Especially if you went against the person who had _made_ your day bad.”

“We’ll take your word for it, kid,” Yao laughed, giving her a hearty pat on the back. He then threw back his head and chugged the rest of his wine. With a content sigh and then a belch, he grinned proudly. Grabbing Zhu’s forfeited cup, he started to tell them about his luck in Liar’s Dice that night.

Before an hour had passed, Yao and Ling were drunk. Knowing better than to let them continue drinking lest they make themselves sick, Zhu guided them out of the tavern and towards home. Both men stumbled and zigzagged in their drunken state, but they were in good spirits and babbled on about how they were going to win the hearts of Mei and Ting-Ting thanks to their winnings.

“You’ll—you’ll _see_ ,” Ling slurred, pointing a scolding finger at what he _thought_ was Yao—it was, in fact, a terrified stray dog. “As soon as I—as soon as I get ‘er those chisels…she’ll…she’ll…” He frowned, trying to remember what he was going to say. He then lit up, having remembered. “She’ll carve a—a—a _whole_ tree into a statue! And—and—and it’ll be all glorious and—and—and it’ll be _big_! SO BIG!” Practically shouting, he threw his arms out to further emphasize how big the fictional statue would be.

Yao blew a long raspberry at him. “Ain’t goin’ t’ compare t’—ain’t goin’ t’ compare t’ how fuckin’ _happy_ Mei’s gunna be. She’s gunna squeal an’ do tha’ adorable lil’ wiggle she does when…when she’s all excited an’ shit.” He then looked at Ling, a completely love-struck expression on his face. “She’s just so damned _adorable!_ Newborn puppies ain’t got _shit_ on how adorable Mei is.”

“ _Language_ , Yao!” Zhu teased, giggling. “Keep talking like that and you will have her gawking in horror instead of admiration!”

He pouted and dismissively waved a hand at her before nearly tripping over his own feet. For his safety, Zhu hoisted him up and started to carry him on her shoulder. “She don’t think nothin’ of me,” he pouted. “I’m just a—a—an ugly, hairy dwarf t’ her.”

“Strange, because she told me she thinks you to be the most attractive man she has ever laid eyes on.”

“…Really?” Yao asked, voice quiet and eye opened wide.

Ling burst out laughing. “Zhu made a funny!” he cackled, doubling over. Like Yao, he lost his balance and would have toppled to the ground if Zhu hadn’t also picked him up.

“I did _not_ make a ‘funny’,” she told him, voice stern. “I was serious. Mei has told me she finds Yao very handsome. And Ting-Ting has told me she finds you handsome, as well.” She would have thought the two of them would have been pleased to hear this; instead, they looked almost ready to cry.

“It don’t mean nothin’,” Yao sniffled. “They’re goddesses an’ we’re just the—the _worms_ they walk on.”

Ling sighed, letting his head hang limp. “They’d—they’d never court us. They _can’t_ court us. All because—all because they’re princesses and we’re just—we’re just—we’re just lieutenants. What Emperor wants his daughters to court _lieutenants_?!”

“Who said the Emperor had to know?”

Both men looked at her, frowning.

She shrugged. “You _could_ court in secret,” she suggested. “After all, this _is not_ the Imperial City. There are not eyes everywhere. If you were to, say, go for a ride with one of them and have lunch while out, no one would know if you…did whatever it is people do when courting.”

Ling suddenly reached up and grabbed Zhu’s face between his hands, slightly smooshing her cheeks as he made her look at him. “You—you mean we can—we can _hold their hands_?” he questioned, eyes wide.

“Your breath smells horrible,” she winced, tilting her head away from him. “And _yes_ , I suppose you could hold their hands.”

“An’ we can _hug_ ‘em!?” Yao cried, making her wince at the sudden volume. Realizing he had shouted right next to Zhu’s ear, he clapped his hands over his mouth. “Sorry,” he said, voice muffled.

“But—But how do we—how do we go on the—the—the rides without making your—your mom all suspicious and stuff?” Ling asked.

By now, Zhu was regretting her decision to carry them. “I will speak with them and give them the same suggestion. If they agree, I will let you know.”

“You’d—you’d really do that?” Yao gaped. “For _us_?”

She nodded, having to shift him slightly. “Yes. You make my sisters happy and that makes _me_ happy. If I can help them to continue being happy, then I will do all within my power to do such. Even if it means going behind my mother’s back.”

Ling frowned. “But what if—what if you get in trouble? We don’t—we don’t want you in trouble.”

“I can blame it on a lack of understanding of Chinese politics.”

Yao snorted before falling into a fit of giggles. “Kid…you’ve got a plan for any damned situation, don’t ya?” he giggled. “But that’s good! Means you’re less likely to fuck up.” Reaching up, he attempted to pat the top of her head; he only managed to pat her on the center of her face. “You’re a damned good friend, kid.”

“Someday—someday you’re going to—to—to make someone very happy,” Ling told her, pointing matter-of-factly at her. “If you end up—end up marrying someone, they’re going to be—going to be—be a _very_ lucky person.”

She felt her stomach drop, leaving an empty feeling in its place. Forcing a small smile and a chuckle, she replied with, “ _If_ I end up married.”

 

After half an hour, the three of them finally returned home. About halfway home, Yao and Ling had managed to drunkenly sing themselves to sleep as she carried them, leaving her in relieved silence. Opening the door to the house proved to be a bit tricky, however, as she had to balance Ling on her shoulder so he wouldn’t slide off. Before she could fumble the door open, however, it swung open to reveal the silhouette of Chien-Po.

“You three are back sooner than I expected,” he said, stepping aside. “Normally, Yao and Ling would return around daybreak.”

“I was not going to let them get _that_ drunk,” she answered. Turning sideways, she stepped into the house only to be relieved of the burden that was Yao.

“I take it they had a good evening?” Despite his sarcastic tone, there was a small smile on his lips.

She nodded. “Yao won quite a bit at Liar’s Dice,” she told him, “and Ling got to win some earnings because of my wrestling.”

Now Chien-Po frowned. “Oh dear…” he murmured. They started down the hallway to their rooms. “You didn’t get hurt at all, did you? I know wrestling can get rather violent…”

“I am fine, though I did wound one man’s pride.” She slid open the door to Ling’s room. “His pride needed to be brought down a few notches, however. He was a complete and total ass…he would have made _wonderful_ friends with Tingfei.” Sticking her tongue out in disgust, she carefully lifted Ling from her shoulder and set him in his bed. “He may try to hunt me down to try and get revenge, but I will just teach him another lesson.” She started to remove Ling’s shoes and socks.

“Hm. He doesn’t sound like the friendliest of people. You didn’t happen to catch his name, did you?”

At that, she snorted. “According to him, he is the ‘Great Duyi’.” Pulling Ling’s blanket over him, she rolled him onto his side should he end up getting sick during the night. “Did anything happen while we were away?”

“Yes, actually.”

Leaving the room, she slid the door shut behind her. “Oh? Good or bad?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest.” He came out of Yao’s room and pulled a sealed scroll from his sash. “A messenger came for you.”

She frowned and took the scroll. Turning it over, she found it sealed with the Emperor’s crest. “Aren’t I lucky?” she mumbled, a look of disdain taking over her features. “Thank you, though. And thank you for not reading it or letting anyone else read it.”

He tilted his head, concerned. “Your mother did try to take it and read it,” he admitted, “but Ting-Ting and I were able to keep it from her. Why would she want to read it so badly?”

She half-heartedly smiled. “More than likely, she wishes to know what sort of errand her husband is going to have me run.” Covering her mouth as she yawned, she shook her head. “Depending on its contents, I may or may not still be here come morning.”

His frown grew. “What do you mean? Even if it _is_ an errand, surely it can’t be _that_ urgent?”

“It is from the Emperor,” she sighed, opening the door to her room. “It _is_ that urgent.”

 


	18. 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evidently, I am not good at remembering to update on weekends...Whoops.

His head was _pounding_.

Opening his eyes, Ling quickly clenched them shut again and swore under his breath. The little bit of light he had seen made his head feel like it had burst into flames.

‘Wait,’ he thought. ‘When did I get into bed…? The last thing I remember was singing while walking home…’

He started to open his eyes again. This time, however, he took his time, allowing himself to gradually adjust to the light. It wasn’t even that bright out—the pain in his head had made him think he had been staring at the sun.

Once his eyes were open, he found that he was, indeed, in his own bed. Save for his shoes and his socks, he was still fully dressed. Then, looking to his bedside table, he found three things on it: A small pitcher of water, a cup also filled with water, and a black, rather full money-purse.

 _His_ money purse was green.

“Dammit it, Zhu,” he mumbled, reaching over and picking it up. It was heavier than he expected, making his frown grow in size. “I told you…” Sighing, he tucked it under his pillow—he knew she would never take it back—before sitting up and reaching for the water. The pounding in his head grew stronger as he sat up, but he did his best to ignore the pain as he drained the cup in one go.

After pouring himself another cupful, he tiredly rubbed his face and wondered what time it was. Though there was light outside, it meant nothing: The long, summer days usually began around four thirty or five in the morning.

‘I don’t hear anyone moving around yet,’ he thought, chugging down the second cup of water. ‘Which means it’s probably still pretty early…also means I can take a leak then get a bit more sleep.’

It took a great deal of willpower, but he managed to force himself to stand up and leave his room. At first, his vision swam a bit and he nearly toppled over. Thankfully, he was able to regain his balance and, by the time he reached the privy, his eyesight had returned to normal.

Leaving the privy, he headed back to his room. Passing by Yao and Chien-Po’s rooms, he could hear them sleeping inside. He stepped into his room and was about to shut the door when he got an idea.

‘If I can be quiet enough, I can slip her money back to her,’ he thought, glancing over his shoulder. He then saw something that made him frown. ‘What the…?’ Walking across the hall, he found a note pinned to the wall with a small knife.

“‘Going on task. Not know be back. Not worry. Sorry,’” he quietly read aloud. “Huh? ‘Going on task’?” Shaking his head, he slid open Zhu’s door only to find her room devoid of her presence.

‘Did she mean that she was going on an early-morning errand?’ he thought, sliding the door shut again. ‘No. Zhu wouldn’t have left a note if that was the case.’ Something about this didn’t feel quite right, but she _had_ told them not to worry… ‘It doesn’t sound _too_ serious. Then again, it doesn’t seem Zhu knows how to write too well. It could be way more serious than it reads. Ugh.’ Shaking his head, he rubbed his face once more. ‘It’s too early and I’m too hungover to be thinking this hard.’

He went back into his room and, after draining another cup of water, slipped on his shoes. Walking quietly, he left the servants’ house. To his surprise, there was a bit of a chill to the morning air; but he knew it wouldn’t’ last long. Not to his surprise, however, was the lack of activity in the main house.

Unsure if he should go directly to Zhi or if he should instead wake one of the princesses, he rubbed the back of his neck. ‘It would make sense to tell Zhi first, wouldn’t it?’ he thought, looking down at the note. ‘But I don’t want to incur her wrath if she’s not a morning person…’

To his relief, one of the bedroom doors slid open and, yawning, Su stepped out. Seeing Ling, she let out a small squeak and jumped. “Ling! What’re you doing here so early?” she asked. She then frowned. “Is everything alright?” He was glad to see that she was fully dressed; the last thing he needed was to see her in her sleeping gown.

“To be honest? I don’t know.” He walked over to her, handing over the note. “I found this pinned to the wall beside Zhu’s room.”

The frown remained on her face as she took the note. Reading it over, she let out a sigh and shook her head. “Great,” she murmured.

“Is it bad?” Ling dared to ask. “Or is it something we shouldn’t worry about?”

Su looked up at him, a mixture of concern and uncertainty on her face. “Well, I mean, you _can_ worry, but you’ll be stuck worry for a few weeks at _least_ ,” she told him. “Or you can have faith that Zhu’s good enough to come back just fine and let the time pass by.”

Now he wore a frown. “What do you mean by ‘good enough’?”

A bit of guilt now came to her features as she glanced away from him. “She said she’s going on a task—that means she’s doing an…an ‘errand’ for my father.” She then sniffed the air, her brow rising. “You _reek_ of alcohol, by the way.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Yao, Zhu, and I went out for drinks last night.” He tiredly rubbed his face; his head was aching, but not as bad as before. “What _kind_ of errand is she doing…? Or do I not want to know?”

“It could be anything,” she admitted. “Choosing horses for the cavalry, checking on training camps, fetching precious items…” She coughed out a word that sounded quite like ‘assassinations’, though Ling didn’t press the matter. “Father has her do all sorts of things…I wouldn’t worry about it, though. Zhu’s fully capable of taking care of herself. Now, _you_ on the other hand…”

“What about me?” He wasn’t sure he liked how simply Su shrugged Zhu’s ‘errand’ off. ‘Then again,’ he thought, ‘she’s probably used to this.’

Taking his arm, Su started to guide him to the kitchen. “You are quite obviously hungover,” she told him. “Even _without_ your new cologne, it’s clear you over-drank: Red eyes, pained expression, and exhausted posture? Yep. But, don’t worry!” She smiled up at him. “I’ve got just the thing to help with that!”

His brow slowly rose. “Chien-Po’s right…you really _are_ an extra chipper morning person.” Sitting down, he covered his mouth as he yawned.

Su felt her cheeks grow warm. “He said that about me?” Kneeling in front of the hearth, she made quick work of rebuilding the fire. It wasn’t too hard; there were plenty of still-hot coals left from the previous night.

“Mhm. He said it’s refreshing to see someone so happy first thing in the morning.” Closing his eyes, he leaned back against the wall. It wasn’t as comfortable as his bed, but at least he wasn’t being forced to stand. “Apparently, he doesn’t find Yao’s groggy grumbling or my hunger all that amusing.”

She quietly giggled. “I know how he feels then. Ting-Ting and Mei are _not_ morning people—but only because they’re usually staying up until the wee hours of the morning either sewing or carving.” Ducking into the pantry, she started to gather up some honey, ginger, and other various things.

“It takes a certain kind of person to enjoy seeing the sunrise while knowing they’re not going back to sleep.” He covered his mouth and yawned again.

“I get it from father,” she said. “He always enjoys the peaceful silence of the world when the sun is rising. When I was little, he’d sneak me out to the garden with him and we’d tend to the plants or feed the fish…” A small sigh left her mouth, though she smiled. Setting her ingredients down on the counter, she went and grabbed her mortar and pestle. “But now, I tend to the garden in the morning with Chien-Po’s help.”

Ling opened an eye, watching as she used the back of a knife to peel the skin off the ginger. “Do you find it just as peaceful now as you did back at the palace?” He let his eye fall closed again.

She was quiet for a moment. Placing the ginger in the mortar, she added in a bit of honey and some sliced cabbage leaves. “You know…I think I find it _more_ peaceful,” she finally answered. Grabbing the pestle, she started to mash the ingredients together. “The sounds of city life are quieter out here and you can better hear the birdsongs. And…Chien-Po doesn’t try to drop hints that he’s found a potential suitor for me or that he’s disappointed my sisters will soon be too old to marry off…”

He frowned; the smashing of the pestle seemed to get just a touch louder. “It _is_ a bit odd none of you have been married off yet,” he admitted, “since you’re, well— _you_ _know_. But hopefully, it means that when a suitor _does_ come along, they don’t just want the money and title that comes with being married to one of you—that they’ll want _you_ and your heart.”

“…My heart doesn’t want anyone,” she mumbled, her voice filled with guilt. “It never has and I don’t think it ever will.”

Opening both eyes now, he looked at her curiously. “You’ve never had a crush on someone?”

She shook her head, sighing as she dumped the contents of the mortar into a small pot. “No. I never have—and trust me, my sisters and I have met _plenty_ of people throughout our lives. While they were getting crushes and thinking about their future families, I was too busy trying to solve a pest problem in the garden or thinking about what goes best with pan-seared firm tofu…” She added a bit of water to the pot before taking it to the hearth and hanging it over the flames.

“Well, romance isn’t for everyone, so it makes sense that your head was elsewhere.” He shrugged and closed his eyes again.

Her brows furrowed and she turned around, looking at him in confusion. “You’re…not going to call me weird or tell me I just haven’t found the right guy?”

“Why would I?” He lifted his brow. “Chien-Po’s kind of the same way, but more towards—er…well, more _intimate_ matters.” His cheeks turned slightly pink.

“You mean he’s never wanted to have sex?”

He was both surprised and amused by her bluntness. “Basically,” he said with a small chuckle. “Whenever the topic came up in conversation, he’d get bored and go find something else to do or try to steer the conversation elsewhere.”

Finding a spoon, she started to stir the pot. “But he’s _not_ the same regarding love—I hate to say it, but it’s rather obvious he has a big crush on me.” She then chuckled, though there wasn’t much humor to the sound. “It’s obvious you and Yao have crushes on my sisters, too, by the way.”

His cheeks darkened greatly. “Really?”

“Mhm. But it’s cute. The princes and kings who would try to woo us before were always gloating about their riches, their kingdom, and how powerful they were. But you three try to make us laugh or even just smile.” After stirring the pot, she gently tapped the spoon against its side. “Most of the time, you don’t even have to _try_ —just being around you makes us smile.”

Ling rubbed the back of his neck. “We’ve—we’ve been trying to not go overboard,” he admitted to her, “because we know that even if you three felt the same, nothing could come of it thanks to our differences in rank.”

“And, as lenient as our mother is, that is the _one_ thing she agrees with father on.” Sighing, she started gathering ingredients for that morning’s meal. “She and Zhu actually got in a fight over it a few days ago.”

He frowned. “Wait, what? Really?”

She nodded, scooping some rice from a large pot and pouring it into a smaller bowl. “Zhu doesn’t think it’s fair that mother will let us do anything we want _aside_ from courting. Even if we—well, Ting-Ting and Mei—do fall in love with someone, it’d be forbidden just because of our rank.”

“I may be slightly biased, but I kind of agree with Zhu on that.” He then frowned, remembering something Zhu had told him the previous night. “Huh…so _that’s_ why Zhu suggested that…” he murmured.

Su looked up, curious. “Hmm? What did she suggest?”

Leaning over, he peered down the hallway to make sure Zhi was nowhere in sight. Despite not seeing her, he stood up and, after wobbling in place for a few seconds, he made his way over to Su.

“Zhu suggested that your sisters start going for more horseback rides,” he told her, voice soft.

She perked, knowing where he was going. “And because they’d be leaving the property, they would need an escort!” she finished, doing her best to keep her voice quiet in her enthusiasm. She nearly started bouncing in place. “It’s so simple, yet so brilliant! Then again, it’s coming from Zhu—she’s _always_ got a plan at the ready.”

He chuckled. “It certainly seems so. So…you’ll pass along the good word to your sisters, right?”

“Of course!” Su was wearing a wide grin. “I want to see Ting-Ting and Mei just as happy as Zhu does. If it means we have to go behind mother’s back, then so be it. But something like a few horse rides wouldn’t be suspicious.”

“Hopefully not,” he smiled.

 

~*~

 

“Is this _all_?”

“I’m afraid so, Khatan Khaan—”

“ _Do not_ call me that.”

The man shrank back. “My apologies…There weren’t many weapons that could be spared.”

“And the ones that _could_ be spared are all…trash.” Picking up a sword, Zhu scrunched her nose up as she looked it over. Not only was it chipped and dented in places, but there were also large patches of rust on the blade. She dropped it back into the cart before picking up a bow to inspect.

“It’s all that could be spared, Kha—er, my…lady…?”

She glanced over at the man, her brow rising. Shaking her head, she let the bow fall back into the cart as well. “ _Some_ of this can be salvage,” she told him. “The rest of it, however, will need to be melted down and remade.”

Now it was the man who frowned. “…Can they do that? Do they have forges and smiths?”

“Not in the way you know.” Going to Umut, she mounted the mare. “Come. The sooner we get this trash delivered, the sooner it can be fixed.”

 

~*~

 

“Is she ready to go?”

“Not _quite_ yet, but within half an hour she should be. I just need to finish cleaning her hooves.”

Mei gave Mulan a thankful smile. “Alright. There is no rush, so take your time,” she told her. “Thank-you, again, for this.”

Mulan waved dismissively as she leaned over. Lifting Ning’s front-right hoof, she tucked it between her knees and started to scrap the dirt from it. “It’s no trouble, really! I’m just glad I could be of help.”

“Yes, but taking care of six horses and four oxen can be quite the chore.”

She smiled, her brow rising as she glanced up at Mei. “That’s why I’ve got Ling helping me,” she half-joked. “Between the two of us, we can get everything done in a timely manner.”

Sighing, Mei tilted her head, resting her cheek in her palm. “Hopefully mother will have some temporary work hired soon,” she said, “so we don’t have to keep asking you to help while also overburdening the lieutenants.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about overburdening us.” Ling came out of the barn, carrying a saddle. “The work we do around here is actually kind of fun! And it’s not like this is a huge farm like the ones on the other side of town. It’s a good size for three guys and a woman to handle. Especially when the woman can lift twice as much as the strongest guy.”

Mei quietly giggled. “If you insist,” she smiled. “But it would still be nice to get some more help around here for when things get a little chaotic. I imagine harvest season is going to utterly exhaust you.”

“Maybe, maybe not. It depends on how many of the crops actually grow.” He set the saddle on the railing of the fence before patting the side of Ning’s neck. “They got planted a bit late, so there’s a chance that we won’t get much yield.”

“They look like they’re growing to me,” Mulan said, finishing with the hoof. She gently set it back down before going to clean the back-right hoof. “You may want to get some sort of fence built, though. Wouldn’t want your vegetables to get eaten by deer or rabbits.”

He frowned. “True…didn’t think of that, honestly.”

“See? The extra help could be used to build the fence,” Mei chuckled. She frowned in disgust as a particularly large chunk of _something_ went flying out of Ning’s hoof. “What _was_ that?”

“Either a rock or dried dung,” Mulan answered with a shrug. “Either way, I’m sure her foot feels better now.” She glanced up in time to see the look of horror on Mei’s face. “Come now, Mei: You can’t expect her to take care where she walks. She’s a _horse_ —they go where they like!”

“Especially when they’re galloping through the pasture,” Ling added with a grin. “Be glad her hooves are as clean as they are; usually they can get pretty nasty.”

Mei scrunched her nose up in disgust. “Suddenly, I find myself even more thankful for the help the two of you are giving us…”

Ling laughed. “Once you’ve done it a few times, you get used to it,” he told her. “But, your hands are meant for sewing. _Not_ for scraping gunk out from a horse’s hoof.” When Mulan stood up and stretched her back with a wince, he took the scraper from her and picked up where she left off.

There was a thankful smile on Mulan’s lips as Ling took over. Though she was used to cleaning hooves, she was used to cleaning _Khan’s_ hooves—and he was a _much_ bigger horse than little Ning. She rubbed the small of her back before looking back to Mei.

“Do you have any idea about where you’ll be riding to?” she asked.

“Not…really,” Mei admitted with a blush. “I don’t know the area quite as well as Yao, so I thought I’d just let him take the lead.” She looked out across the courtyard, watching as some small birds pecked at the ground in search for food. “Maybe we’ll go visit the orchards and get Su and Chien-Po some fresh fruit to use tonight.”

“That sounds nice,” Mulan smiled. “I know it’s fig season right now, so you should be able to find plenty of those.”

“And cherries!” Ling chimed in. “And mangoes!”

“Oh, I _love_ mangoes!” Mulan chirped. She then pouted. “Sadly, they don’t grow very well this far north, so finding fresh ones is nearly impossible.”

Mei chuckled, her brow rising. “Sounds like we’ve found a new challenge for Su,” she joked. “But cherries sound _delicious._ I should go get a basket just in cast we do stop by there…” Excusing herself, she left Mulan and Ling to finish readying Ning.

As Mulan was putting Ning’s saddle on and getting everything adjust, Yao came out of the servants’ house. He and Ling got his horse, a gelding named Guang, ready. Like Yao, he was short, stout, and had a bit of a temper if his rider was an amateur. Not long after, Mei returned, an empty basket in hand. Mulan helped her onto Ning’s back before watching as she and Yao trotted out of the courtyard.

With his hands on his hips, Ling looked over at Mulan. “Well, should we get started on that leaky roof, then?” he asked.

“We probably should,” she replied. “Though…with how dry it’s been, how do you know it’s got a leak?”

“Before she left, Zhu had gone into the loft to get some of the meat Chien-Po and Su were trying to dry-cure only to find soaking wet sausages.”

She winced. “Ugh. I bet no one was happy about that.”

He shook his head. “Not at all.”

The two of them headed around to the back of the barn, where they found an old ladder resting against the wall. There was also a newer-looking bucket with some tools and new tiles in it. Mulan picked it up and went through it, making sure everything they would need was in there.

“Ah, good, you’ve got the right tools for this,” she smiled. “Good. Means we won’t have to finagle a patch.”

Ling rubbed the back of his neck, a cheeky grin on his lips. “To be honest, I just found that bucket when I was going through the barn a few days ago,” he admitted. “It looked like it had the right tools in it, so I grabbed it.”

She tilted her head. “You’ve never fixed a roof before?”

“Not a tile roof, no.”

“Hm.” She thought for a moment before shrugging. “Guess that means I’ll just have to show you then,” she chuckled. “Here, help me get this ladder in place.”

Together, they were able to get the ladder propped against the wall. Neither of them really liked the look of the ladder; it was older than they thought and didn’t seem to be very strong for its size. Mulan, however, was optimistic.

“Neither of us are very heavy,” she told Ling. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know, Mulan. I don’t think I trust it. Don’t you have a ladder at your place we could use?”

“Ours is only half this size.”

“Oh, yeah…that’s right. Your barn is only a single-story…”

She chuckled, nodding. “If you don’t trust it, though, you can stay down here and keep it steady for me. I could show you how to fix a tile roof another day.”

“Are you sure?” he frowned. “I mean, we could get Chien-Po to toss you up there.”

“Except he’s in town with Zhi,” she gently reminded him. “It’ll be fine, I promise.”

“If you insist,” he sighed, defeated. “But you’re not going up with that bucket. Let me tie a rope to it so I can throw that up to you, alright?”

Her brow rose in amusement. “Since when did you become such a worrywart?” she teased.

He pouted, cheeks turning a bit pink. “Hey, I just don’t want one of my best friends to get herself killed in such a lame fashion!”

Mulan giggled, brow still lifted. “I _won’t_ get myself killed,” she assured him. “Now go get that rope. I’d like to get this done before the sun’s at its hottest.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it,” Ling said in a jokingly annoyed tone. “Miss Bossy Pants.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and blew a raspberry. Hearing him laugh as he rounded the corner, she grinned. She then went over to the ladder and lightly pressed against it, testing its stability once more.

‘It does seem a bit rickety,’ she thought, head tilting. ‘But it’s not _that_ rickety. I’m sure it’ll hold my weight just fine. If not…well, then, lesson learned and I owe Zhi a new ladder.’

Just a few minutes passed before Ling returned with the rope. He tied it to the bucket’s handle before going over and holding the base of the ladder.

“Are you _sure_ about this?” he asked as Mulan climbed the first two steps.

“ _Completely_ ,” she answered, glancing over her shoulder. “Just make sure it doesn’t slip when I get a little higher up.” She started climbing more steps, not seeing how dark Ling’s face became when her hindquarters passed in front of his face.

He quickly looked away, trying to focus his gaze—and mind—on something else. “So, uh…what happens if you end up being unable to fix the tile or it’s not even a tile that’s the problem?”

“Then we go up to the loft to make sure the underside of the roof isn’t the problem.” She hated to admit it, but the higher rungs of the ladder almost felt like they wanted to cave in. They held, however, allowing her reach up and grab the roof’s edge. Pulling herself up, she turned and looked down at Ling. “Alright, toss me the rope!”

Tying a knot in the end of the rope to make it just a bit heavier, he threw the rope up to Mulan. He missed, however, and it fell back to the ground. Frowning, he tried to throw it up again only to miss a second time. His third throw, however, made it and he stepped back as the Mulan started to pull the bucket up.

“Shouldn’t be too long,” Mulan called down. “I can already see the problem.”

“Alright!” he called back. “Just be careful, alright?”

She smiled reassuringly down at him, her brow raised. “I will be.”

Ling backed up as far as he could, trying to watch Mulan to make sure that she truly was being cautious. He was stopped by the wall encircling the property, however. Pouting, he tried to stand on his tiptoes; it worked somewhat, as he was now able to at least see her head.

‘I know I shouldn’t be this worried,’ he told himself. ‘Mulan can handle herself! But that roof is really tall and that ladder is…ready for the trash heap.’ Rubbing the back of his neck, he looked out across the yard in time to see Ting-Ting leaving the house. Judging by the plain, brown dress she wore, she was heading to the barn to do some wood carving.

She paused for a moment as she gathered up her hair and began twisting it into a loose bun. When she looked up and caught Ling watching her, her cheeks turned a bit pink, but she smiled and shyly waved at him.

His own face turned red again as he waved back, a large, goofy smile on his lips. Ting-Ting disappeared around the front of the barn and he let out a small sigh.

‘Maybe I’ll get to go on a horse ride with her soon,’ he thought, the grin remaining on his lips. ‘Su seemed rather enthusiastic when she told me and Yao that her sisters agreed to the idea…’

“I’m all done!” Mulan called out, making him jump as she drew him out of his thoughts.

Looking up at her, he saw her getting ready to lower the bucket down to him. “That was quick!”

“I only had to replace two tiles,” she explained, taking care to not let the rope pass through her hands too fast. “After getting the broken ones out, it was easy to slide the new ones in.”

Once the bucket was low enough, Ling grabbed it and stepped back so the falling rope wouldn’t hit him. “Well, that’s good! And that means we’re done with the barn chores until tonight, right?”

“That’s correct,” she chuckled. “Can you bring the ladder a little bit more this way?” She watched as he moved it just a foot or so to the left. “That’s perfect. Thanks!”

“Tonight, we’ll only have to round up the horses and oxen and then feed them, right?” He held onto the base of the ladder as she climbed down onto it, still having no trust in it.

“Yeah. Zhu doesn’t like letting them stay out overnight unless Um—” There was a loud crack and Mulan let out a cry as she started tumbling towards the ground.

His eyes shooting open, Ling darted forward. With his arms outstretched, he was able to catch Mulan, but the sudden addition of her weight sent them both to the ground. They both grunted; Ling from pain and Mulan from the impact.

“You alright?” he wheezed. Opening his eyes, he found Mulan laying atop him. Her eyes were wide and her skin was a bit pale from fright.

“F-Fine,” she told him, sitting up. She rubbed her face in an attempt to force herself to regain her composure.

He frowned. “You sure?” Propping himself up on his elbows, he looked her over for any cuts.

“Just shaken,” she assured him. Glancing over her shoulder, she found the ladder now lying in five or six pieces on the ground. “It held my weight going up; why wouldn’t it hold when I was going down?”

Ling shrugged. “No idea. Maybe you had gone up a little faster, giving it less time to break?”

“Maybe,” she murmured. She then looked back at him. “Thank you, by the way. For catching me.”

He chuckled, his cheeks turning pink as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I _tried_ to catch you,” he corrected. “I ended up being more of a cushion for you, though.”

Mulan opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, Ting-Ting came running around the corner. “What happened? I heard a scream!” She paused, finding Mulan straddling Ling’s waist.

Ling, not realizing how suggestive the two of them looked at the moment, answered. “The ladder broke while Mulan was still at the top of it.”

“Oh my gods!” She covered her mouth in horror. “Are you alright, Mulan?” Hurrying over, she helped Mulan get to her feet.

“I’m fine, I promise. Just a bit shaken is all.” She straightened her tunic and brushed her pants off. “I wouldn’t have been if Ling hadn’t caught me.”

“ _Tried_ to catch you,” he again corrected. Ting-Ting offered him a hand up and he took it, glad he was already blushing because he started to blush even more when he realized how soft her hand was. “I was more of a cushion.”

Mulan put a hand on her hip before poking him in the center of his chest. “You caught me first,” she lightly scolded, “ _then_ you were the cushion. And, regardless, I would have gotten hurt if it wasn’t for you.”

Instead of a reply, Ling merely stuck his tongue out at her.

Her brow rising, she reached over and flicked the very tip of his tongue, both startling him and making him jump backwards.

“Mother would do the same thing to Su every time she stuck her tongue out like that,” Ting-Ting giggled. She walked over to the broken ladder and knelt down, picking up a piece of wood. “Hm.”

“What is it?” Mulan came over, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“Broken, that’s what it is,” Ling joked, also walking over.

Holding up a piece, Ting-Ting pointed at the jagged, broken end. “Feel how spongey this wood is.” She watched as Mulan and Ling hesitantly did as instructed. “The wood was rotten. And, from the looks of it, even had some termite damage.”

“Yuck. I knew it wasn’t sturdy, but I didn’t think it was _rotten_ ,” Ling murmured, wiping his hand on his shirt. “The next ladder we get, we’re keeping it _in_ the barn.”

Mulan chuckled. “It wasn’t even your ladder to begin with,” she gently reminded him. “It belonged the men who built the barn.”

Letting the piece of ladder fall back to the ground, Ting-Ting stood up and brushed off her skirts. “We’ll have to buy a new one rather soon,” she said. “None of the wood I have is long enough to make a ladder and Su is going to want to harvest fruit from the trees in a few weeks.”

“I can go to town and buy you one today,” Mulan offered. Before Ting-Ting or Ling could protest, she held up her hand to quiet them. “I have to go to town anyway to buy some more tea for my father. It would be no trouble, I assure you.”

“Then you will have to go see mother,” Ting-Ting said. “She’ll give you some money for it.”

“Alright. I’ll go do that, then.” She gave them a small wave before heading off.

Ling looked over at Ting-Ting and noticed that she had small, curly wood shavings clinging to parts of her dress. “Sorry we interrupted your carving time,” he apologized.

“It’s fine.” She smiled. “I am just glad that no one was hurt. I knew Mulan had been on the roof, so when I heard her scream, I thought the worst had happened.” She started to walk back to the front of the barn, Ling walking alongside her.

“I _had_ told her I didn’t think the ladder was safe, but you know Mulan.” He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “She can be pretty stubborn.”

Ting-Ting laughed. “That she can. But, if she wasn’t stubborn, then who would have saved China?”

“Good question. I don’t think any of us would have been smart enough to come up with the idea to start an avalanche, let alone disguise ourselves to sneak into the palace.”

“Speaking of which…” A smirk came to her lips; Ling couldn’t help but notice how much it made her resemble Zhu. “I have heard a rumor that you are still in possession of the dress you wore that night.” She bit her tongue in an attempt to keep herself from giggling as Ling’s face turned beet red.

Unable to come up with any lie that even had the faintest chance of working, he simply told her, “I look _damned_ beautiful in that dress, thank you very much.”

Ting-Ting burst out laughing as he proudly puffed out his chest. “I didn’t think Zhu had been serious!” she snorted, nearly doubled over. “You really still have it?”

“Yes, yes I do,” he admitted, still as red as possible. “Don’t look at me like that! It’s _comfortable_! Anyway, the only difference between a man’s robes and a woman’s dress is a little cleavage!” he pouted.

“Don’t let Mei hear you say that,” she giggled. By now, they were inside the barn. Despite being out of the sun, the barn was hot and stuffy. “Otherwise, she would lecture you for _days_ on all of the differences between men’s clothing and women’s clothing.”

He shrugged. “I don’t see why there even _has_ to be a difference,” he admitted. “I mean, a lot of times, men’s clothing is so plain and boring. Meanwhile, women get all the gorgeous embroidery and bright colors and get to look like—to look like rare and colorful birds! Maybe _I_ want to look like a rare and colorful bird for once.” He crossed his arms over his chest, pouting once more.

Ting-Ting giggled, picking up her chisel and beginning to carve once again. “I never expected to hear a _man_ say such a thing,” she confessed. “But you’re right. I don’t recall ever really seeing a man wearing pinks or greens or heavily embroidered fabrics.” She raised a brow and looked over at him. “Perhaps you and Mei can change that?” she teased.

His cheeks, which had finally begun to lose color, reddened once more. “I don’t think she would be very thrilled with the idea of making dresses for a man.”

“You’d be surprised.” She blew some shavings from her project. “If it involves sewing and clothing, Mei would be as happy as a bumblebee in a field of flowers.”

“…Huh. Never heard _that_ one before.” He chuckled. “I like it.”

“My father came up with it. He used to call Su his ‘little bumblebee’ since she was always buzzing with energy and loved working in the garden.” Grabbing a wooden mallet, she switched her small chisel out for a larger, wide one.

“Did he have nicknames for all of you?” he asked, head tilted in curiosity.

“Mei was his little ladybug.” Using the mallet on the chisel’s handle, she used the blade to slice through partial cuts she had made. “She’s always been on the chubby side and she used to wear nothing but red in hopes of avoiding bad luck.” Blowing the shavings away again, she once more switched chisels.

When she didn’t continue, Ling somewhat frowned. “What about you?” he asked. “What was _your_ nickname?”

She was glad her work kept her facing away from him. “He didn’t have one for me.”

His frown grew. “What?! But, you’re his eldest—surely he had to have _some_ form of loving nickname for you?”

“That is exactly _why_ he didn’t have one for me,” she sighed. “As the eldest, I was burdened with all the responsibility. I am _still_ burdened with it. While Mei and Su got to skip lessons once in a while, I had to attend all of mine. Even when I was ill, my tutors came to me to ensure I was taught poetry, history, arithmetic…” She shook her head.

“That isn’t fair,” he protested. “You may be the eldest, but you deserve some free time like your sisters!”

She set down her chisel, sighing heavily. “He was raising me to be a queen while Mei and Su were raised to be princesses. Should father have passed before we were married, I would have been the one to take his place. Or, if he had found me a suitor, he would have been a king from another part of China—or even another country.” She started to sort through her chisels, looking for a medium-small one.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “…I mean no offense—and you are entirely free to hit me if I’m overstepping here—but from the things you’ve told me about him, it almost seems like your father doesn’t… _love_ you as much as Mei and Su.”

Ting-Ting closed her eyes. “That’s because he doesn’t.” Her voice was almost a whisper. “Not anymore, at least.” There was a sad smile on her lips when she looked up at him. “I’m not his daughter, so why should he?”

Ling stared at her, confused and angry. “What do you mean? Of _course_ you’re his daughter!”

“In name only.” Setting her tools down, she turned and leaned against the workbench. “Do not tell me you haven’t noticed, Ling.”

“Haven’t noticed what?” he frowned. “That—that you’re an intelligent and funny young woman who deserves to be treated well by her father?!”

A soft chuckle left her mouth. “I am also taller than my sisters,” she told him. “And, while I look a great deal like my mother, I look _nothing_ like the Emperor. But I _do_ resemble Zhu in some ways, don’t I? My sharp cheekbones, my wider eyes, my thicker brows, my odd amount of strength…”

Realization slowly started to overcome Ling’s anger and confusion, though he said nothing.

Ting-Ting nodded, a sorrowful smile on her lips. “I am not the eldest daughter of the Emperor of China…but I _am_ the younger daughter of Shan Da.”

He stared at her for a moment, unsure of what to say. “But—but—” Closing his eyes, he shook his head. “I don’t care _whose_ daughter you are,” he told her, unconsciously reaching over and setting his hands on her shoulders, “it’s not fair of him to stop loving you like his own _just_ because he found out you aren’t. Especially when it’s clear that, to _you_ , he _is_ still your father.”

“He is a complicated man,” she said. Ling watched as a tear rolled down her cheek. “And I am sure he has his reasons. After all, Shan Da was his greatest enemy, so it would—” She fell silent, surprised when Ling set his hand on her cheek.

“I don’t care,” he said, voice as quiet as hers. “You don’t deserve this kind of pain, Ting-Ting. You really don’t. You deserve happiness and love and—and everything else that’s good.”

A small smile came to her lips as she shut her eyes. She felt his thumb carefully move across her cheek as he wiped away one of her tears. “If it is any consolation,” she spoke, opening her eyes once more and meeting his gaze, “I haven’t been happier than when I’m with you.”

He blinked, a bit taken aback by her words. Before he could say anything in return, however, Ting-Ting leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Though his cheeks grew hot with embarrassment and his mind began filling with thoughts of how Zhi could have him assassinated if she caught them at that very moment, he returned the kiss. As she wrapped her arms around his neck, he slid an arm around her waist and protectively held her against him, almost entirely forgetting about Zhi.

 

~*~

 

_She was on the steppes._

_It had been years since she had last ridden across these flatlands, but she was not riding now. No. She stood, surrounded on all sides by a sea of gold-green grass that danced in the wind. The wind brought with it the faint sounds of civilization and the smell of fires—but she was alone. For miles and miles, she was the only living being._

_Or so she thought._

_Through the rustling of the wind in the grass, she heard a different sort of noise. It was lower to the ground and had a crackle to it. Her eyes narrowing, she subtly twisted her wrists and felt a familiar weight drop into her palm. She continued to pretend to be oblivious, tilting her head back and letting out a content sigh._

_The sound was coming closer to her now. It came slowly, methodically. Whatever it was that made the noise was trying to sneak up on her, to catch her off guard. But she was never off guard. Not anymore._

_She started to walk, letting her hands drift over the grass and she allowed herself to smile. The steppes were once her home and bore many memories—both good and bad—for her. Food could be scarce here, but the flat land was perfect for riding._

_Less than three yards separated her and the noise-maker._

_She could remember being a little girl and laughing as Roua chased her through the camp. From seemingly nowhere, her uncle would then leap out and startle her. He would make her squeal with laughter as he scooped her up and tossed her in the air only to catch her and toss her up again._

_Two yards._

_She also remembered fire and blood and screaming. Horses, both with riders and without, galloping everywhere as yurts burned to the ground. There had been so much screaming and shouting that night…but the morning was worse. For the first time, she had seen death and how it had claimed her father. How she thought it had claimed her mother._

_One yard._

_From that point on, her uncle made them start traveling. They went as far as they could in all directions in the search for more and more men for his army. She started to learn how to fight, how to be a proper Hun warrior. And she learned to forget how to feel…how to be a person._

_Zhu spun around, knives lashing out. A clang rang out as they slammed against the flat of a sword._

_“I was wondering when you would notice me.” Mundzuc smirked._

_Her eyes narrowed. “I heard you,” she growled. “I heard you and I was waiting for the perfect time to strike.”_

_To her surprise, Mundzuc sheathed his sword and held his hands up in a show of peace. “I don’t want to fight,” he told her. “Rather, I would like to talk.”_

_“Talk?” she repeated, voice dry. She kept her knives at the ready. “And what would_ you _have to talk about that doesn’t involve your—your disturbing fixation on me?”_

 _His brow rose. “I will ignore that statement for_ now _in favor of more pressing matters.”_

_Her lip pulled back in a slight sneer, though she said nothing, waiting for him to speak again._

_“As I’m sure you know by now, part of Shan Yu’s army_ did _survive that avalanche,” he began, “and they’ve since returned to their people._ Your _people.” When she remained silent, he continued. “But they were leaderless. Without you or Shan Yu, the warriors starting fighting one another for control. When one assumed power, he was death within the weak and another had taken his place._

_“With the constant changes in leadership, it was chaos. People started starving because the hunting parties would either return empty handed or not return at all. The more cunning of the lot started targeting the families of the strongest warriors. Women and children started falling victim to the chaos. All hell had broken loose.”_

_Zhu closed her eyes. She didn’t want to believe him, but she knew well enough that he spoke the truth. With so many people from different parts of the world, it would have been inevitable that the leaderless Huns would come close to wiping themselves out. It made her stomach churn to think that those unable to fight back had become targets and that they had become such all because she wasn’t there._

_She swallowed hard and finally lowered her knives. “I wanted to return to them,” she whispered. “I knew they would need someone to lead them. But—but the Emperor—” She shook her head and used her palm to hastily wipe her eyes before any tears could fall. “What happened to them?”_

_His brow rose as he watched her; he had never seen her like this before. She had always backtalked or threatened him—but she had never cried in front of him. “Roua and I returned to them,” he told her. “We put an end to the chaos. A few tried to lead a coup against us, but they were swiftly dealt with. Things aren’t perfect, but the starvation and murders have finally ended.”_

_“…Roua is with you?” she asked, eyes widening. “Is he—is he alright? Was he hurt when he was in prison?”_

_“Not physically, no. But his twin was killed and, as far as he knew, the woman he thought of as his daughter betrayed him and got herself killed. Needless to say, he wasn’t doing very well for a while.”_

_Swallowing hard once more, she nodded slowly. “I can imagine,” she murmured, turning away from him. Her stomach continued to churn with guilt as she fruitlessly tried to wipe away more tears. She couldn’t let him see her cry. She couldn’t. He knew enough of her weaknesses—she couldn’t let him learn any more of them._

_She flinched when Mundzuc suddenly set his hand on her shoulder. “You can still come back,” he told her, his voice surprisingly gentle. “You’re their queen, Shan Zhu, and they’ll accept you with open arms.” When she didn’t pull away from him, he dared to slip an arm around her waist. Holding her against him, he let his free hand stroke her hair. “It’s your birthright,” he continued in a whisper. “Roua and I can’t lead them for much longer; neither of us is good at leading.”_

_“Says the youngest Mongol prince,” she retorted, voice quaking._

_“Huns are not Mongols. Your people fear me more than they respect me and that is no way to lead.” He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent. “Come back to them, Shan Zhu. They need you.”_

_“I can’t. If I did, it would—it would be disastrous.”_

_He frowned against her skin. “Why? What is stopping you that would be so bad?”_

_“The Emperor.”_


	19. 19

“There’s a festival coming up? I didn’t know there were any festivals for this time of year!”

“Really? But I thought the Qixi festival was celebrated _everywhere_?”

“We’ve never heard of it.”

Mulan frowned, her head tilted somewhat as she looked at the princesses. “Are you serious?”

“Their father isn’t a fan of the festival,” Zhi spoke up. “It was the day I was taken by the Huns, so he forbade it from being celebrated within the palace.” She sipped her tea before setting it down on the table.

Mei frowned. “But, the citizens _outside_ the palace were allowed to celebrate it…?”

“It wasn’t one of your father’s… _finer_ decisions,” Zhi said, wearing an apologetic smile. “The Qixi festival is a festival revolving around romance—it’s meant to celebrate the love between the mortal cowherd, Niulang, and the immortal weaver, Zhinü.”

Ting-Ting’s brow rose. “You mean the couple who can only meet once a year because the Goddess of Heaven did not approve of their relationship,” she stated. “The Goddess separated them with a celestial river, correct?”

Both Mulan and Zhi nodded, though it was the former who answered. “On the seventh night of the seventh month, all the magpies in the world fly up and create a bridge so the two can be together for a night.”

Mei let out a sigh. “I never did like that tale,” she admitted. “If a flock of magpies form a bridge for you to meet your lover on, it’d make sense to _run away_ with your lover. Not return to opposite sides of the river.”

“What, and risk the wrath of your mother-in-law, the Goddess of Heaven?” Su questioned, her voice heavy with sarcasm. “They’re in love, not _dumb_.” She took a large bite from an eggroll.

Mulan couldn’t help but giggle, watching as Mei pouted at her younger sister. “ _Regardless_ , the festival celebrating them,” she continued. “Before the fun activities begin in the evening, unmarried and newlywed women spend the day praying to Zhinü and holding contests to show off their domestic skills. There are also matchmaking events for parents with unmarried children, but those aren’t as popular as the contests.”

“What do the men do during the day?” Ting-Ting asked, her brow rising.

Opening her mouth, Mulan made to answer. However, she ended up closing her mouth as she realized that she didn’t really know _what_ it was the men did.

“Unmarried and newlywed men usually pray to Niulang,” Zhi answered for her. “They also watch the contests to see just how skilled the women are at the domestic skills, since those can determine whether or not a woman is fit for marriage.” She took another drink of her tea before refilling her cup. “Other than that, however, I don’t know what they do until nightfall. _That_ is when the ‘festive’ part of the festival begins.”

Mulan nodded, a big grin on her face. “There’s all sorts of games, street vendors, prize contests, and even a few fortune tellers who can ‘help’ you so that you get a glimpse of your future spouse in your dreams that night.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun!” Su grinned. “Except the whole divining your future spouse thing—that part sounds boring. But the rest of it? Count me in!”

“ _That_ part sounds lovely,” Mei countered, pouring herself some tea as well. “I wouldn’t mind seeing my future husband.”

“ _You’d_ only see your sewing mannequins in your dreams,” Ting-Ting teased. “After all, everyone knows that sewing is your one true love.”

Mei’s cheeks turned bright red. “That’s not true!” she pouted. “I’ll have you know that I’m fairly certain Y—” She suddenly silenced herself by taking a long drink of her tea.

Zhi cocked a brow; the others couldn’t tell if she was amused or annoyed. “Yes, Mei?” she said, tilting her head ever so slightly.

“I was just going to say ‘I’m fairly certain you’ll end up marrying your set of chisels’,” she quickly lied. Mulan managed to keep herself from cringing; it was obvious Mei had no skills in the art of lying.

“Mhm,” the Empress said, brow remaining raised. “Mulan, dear, when is the festival taking place? I’ve lost track of time since being here; I haven’t the slightest clue what month it even is.”

“A week from today,” she answered, her cheeks the slightest bit pink. “Today is the first day of the seventh month.”

“Thank you,” she said, nodding slowly and sipping her tea again.

The sisters glanced between one another, uncertainty on their faces. “…Can we go, mother?” Ting-Ting finally asked. “To the festival?”

“If your sister has returns before then, yes. Otherwise, no.”

Su frowned. “What? Why does Zhu have to be here? That doesn’t seem fair!”

“It _isn’t_ fair,” she calmly replied. “Zhu has never experienced this festival, either. How would you feel if you had to go away for a while only to come back and find out a festival was held while you were gone?”

Su seemed to shrink back in defeat. “True…” she murmured.

Mei, however, continued to frown. “But we’d still be allowed to participate in the daytime events, right?” she asked. “It would all be domestic activities that she doesn’t really do anyway!”

“Nor does she participate in praying to our gods,” Ting-Ting added, her disappointment less obvious. “In fact, she would probably find it all quite boring whereas it would be a good chance for us to get to know other women in the village _and_ show off our skills.”

The corner of Zhi’s mouth turned upwards in amusement. “Using your skills of persuasion against me, are you?” she teased, humor in her voice.

Ting-Ting turned pink but smiled. “I do not want to get rusty, now do I?” she chuckled. “Does this mean we can go to the daytime events?”

“Yes, you can go to the daytime events.” She smiled as her daughters cried out in joy, taking Mulan by surprise. “But remember: Your sister has to be back in order for you to go to the evening events.”

Mei nodded. “That is perfectly fine,” she said. “Even if she doesn’t come back, I’m certain we can still see the fireworks from out here.”

“And I’m certain I’ll be able to get some street food before nighttime,” Su grinned.

Mulan rolled her eyes and smiled. “The vendors usual set up around suppertime,” she informed. “You may be in luck and find a few who have set up early.”

“What about clothing?” Mei asked, a serious expression suddenly appearing on her face. “Do we dress formal or do we dress casual? What colors should be worn? Should our hair be up, braided, or loose?”

“Um…it…doesn’t really matter, I think? I’ve always worn my casual clothes to the daytime events, since there is usually a strong chance of them getting dirty during the contents,” she admitted. “I’ve only gone to the evening festivities a handful of times, but from what I’ve seen, people tend to dress more formal.”

“Alright. Good thing I have plenty of time to decide on what I’ll wear during the evening then.”

“ _If_ we’ll be going to that,” Su reminded her. “I wouldn’t get my hopes up _too_ much if I were you, Mei. Zhu’s only been gone three weeks—she’s normally gone for five or six weeks.”

Zhi let out a sigh. “I do wish your father would stop sending her on errands…”

Mulan blinked. “It sounds like he’s sent her on quite a few,” she said. “I know it’s probably not my place to ask, but why does he send _her_ instead one of his personal guards?” She watched as Su shoved some food in her mouth, Mei turned her attention to her tea, Ting-Ting looked away from her, and Zhi close her eyes. ‘I probably shouldn’t have asked…’ she said to herself.

“No doubt, Zhu has told you of her dislike for my husband,” Zhi began, “and, as much as I hate to say this, my husband feels the same towards her. Because of their mutual hatred for one another, it was… _difficult_ to convince him to not exile Zhu, let alone spare her life. But once Shang informed him of Zhu’s—” She paused for a moment, sipping her tea as she tried to think of a polite way to phrase her next words. “Once Shang informed him of Zhu’s particular skill set, he made an agreement with her. In exchange for her life and letting her live with us, she would become his personal errand girl…” She trailed off, letting out a heavy sigh.

“With most of the ‘errands’ actually being assassinations,” Ting-Ting finished in a murmur. She looked up at Mulan, finding shocked horror on her face. “She _almost_ declined. Zhu didn’t want to be a killer anymore. She wanted—she wanted to be _normal_.”

Su nodded in agreement. “But then, she found out that we were her sisters and she caved in.” A small, half sad-half amused smile appeared on her lips. “She didn’t want to make us sad, she said.”

At that, Mei chuckled. “She would never admit it, but we have her wrapped around our fingers.”

Unable to stop herself, Mulan smiled. “She is quite fond of you three, that is for certain.” Tucking some hair behind her ear, she let out a small sigh. “Well, at least I now know _why_ he chose to send Zhu off…It’s odd, though. The Emperor is so kind to everyone else!”

“Not everyone else is my illegitimate child with Shan Da,” Zhi reminded her. She looked up, past Mulan, as the door slid open. “Ah, hello, Ling,” she said with a smile.

Ling bowed to them. “Hello,” he replied, also smiling. “I’ve a message for Mulan from her father.”

She felt her cheeks turn red as everyone looked at her. “…And that message would be…?”

“He says…” He shifted his posture and expression, almost perfectly mimicking Fa Zhou. “Mulan, the garden is not going to harvest itself.”

Ting-Ting had to cover her mouth to keep herself from bursting out laughing; Su and Mei were able to keep their giggles at a quiet volume. Zhi laughed, lightly shaking her head. Ling was grinning from ear to ear, pleased that he was able to amused them all.

“I…guess I should get to work,” Mulan murmured, cheeks as red as beets. She then looked at Zhi, a guilty smile on her lips. “Thank you for having me over for lunch.”

“It was a pleasure having you over,” Zhi assured her, watching as she stood. “Good luck with harvesting your garden, dear.”

“I can help you!” Su chirped, wiping her hands on a napkin. “Chien-Po already offered to do the dishes, so I’ve some free time on my hands!”

Mulan smiled at her. “I couldn’t ask that of you, Su.”

“You’re not!” She jumped to her feet and came around the table. “I’m _offering_!” She then took Mulan by the arm and led her out of the room before she had a chance to argue.

Mei sighed, though there was amusement on her face. “I best get back to my embroidery,” she said, also standing. “I am _almost_ done with the shawl. If all goes well, I should have it done by this evening.”

“I look forward to seeing it!” Zhi smiled. She then looked at Ting-Ting. “And your plans for the day?”

“Ling was going to escort me to town so I can buy some hardwood,” she answered after wiping her mouth free of any crumbs. “I may also look around the market to see who would be best to see my carvings through.”

Nodding in understanding, Zhi stood and straightened out her skirts. “I hope you are successful,” she smiled. “I know it’s been a challenge lately, finding good hardwood.”

At that, Ting-Ting sighed. “It is because most of the trees around here are soft, fruit trees. If we were closer to the mountains, then it would be easier to find good hardwoods.” She chuckled as her mother patted her on the shoulder. “Maybe I should learn to be less picky.”

“When a person is good at their craft,” Zhi said, “they can never be too particular about their tools _or_ their materials. You’ve every right to be picky.” She kissed Ting-Ting’s forehead. “Now, off you go. I’ve my own sewing to attend to.”

Smiling, Ting-Ting nodded and left the room, Ling following along behind her. “How has your morning been?” she asked him.

“Pretty good,” he answered. “Got to see Yao shriek like a kid and jump up on a table in fear.”

“… _What_ …?” She stared at him in disbelief.

He grinned. “Yeah! There was a really big spider crawling across the floor—Yao is _terrified_ of spiders.”

She shuddered at the thought. “I’m not fan of them, either,” she admitted. “But, I imagine the sight of a cowering Yao _would_ be amusing to see.” They paused at her bedroom so she could grab her shoes.

“It was, especially when he tried to throw his shoes at the spider to kill it.” He snickered as they started walking again. “He missed both times.”

“Oh dear,” she giggled. “What ended up happening to it?”

“Chien-Po scooped it up and carried it outside, cooing to it like a child.” Once they were outside, the two of them put their shoes on. “Now Yao is on a cleaning spree in our place, wanting to make sure there aren’t any other spiders. He _may_ go on a cleaning spree in your house, too, just to make extra sure.”

She smiled. “That would be wonderful, actually—especially if he was let loose in Su and Mei’s rooms. Mei’s room could _really_ use a good cleaning.”

“It _is_ a bit chaotic in there,” he agreed. “She has so many in-progress projects laying around everywhere.” They crossed the courtyard, heading for the barn.

“You should have seen her room back at the palace. It was the size of the entire house and she _still_ managed to have it covered in half-finished dresses and yards of ribbon!” She lightly shook her head. “But, she somehow manages to find everything she needs without having to search…”

“Ahh…organized chaos.” A guilt smile came to his lips. “That’s…kind of how my room is most of the time.” He shoved open the barn door just enough to let them enter. “I don’t know how it gets that way, though—it’s not like I really own much.” He shrugged, heading towards the stall where his horse, Yan, was at.

Ting-Ting chuckled. “I guess everyone has their own style of organization, with some being messier than others.” Before Ling could open Yan’s stall, she reached out and turned him around. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him to her and kissed him.

A silly grin came to Ling’s lips as he kissed her in return, both arms snaking around her waist. “I missed you, too,” he quietly teased.

She smiled against his lips and rested her forehead against his. “Even though we saw each other at breakfast,” she retorted, brow raised just a bit.

“Yes, but I couldn’t hold or kiss you at breakfast.” There was a cheeky grin on his face. “Well, I could, but then I would be the next day’s breakfast sausage courtesy of your mother.”

Ting-Ting couldn’t help but giggle-snort at that. “You’re in luck, then: Mother cannot make sausage to save her _life_.” She reluctantly stepped back from Ling, allowing him to finally retrieve Yan. While he did that, she went to the corner of the barn near her workbench where there was a small wagon that could be pulled either by a human or by a single animal.

“Really?” His brow rose as he glanced over his shoulder at her. “But it’s just mincing some meat, throwing in whatever spices you like, and then shoving it all in some pig intestines. Even _Yao_ can make sausage and he managed to set a tree on fire when frying a wonton!” He went to one of the empty stalls where the saddles and harnesses were kept.

“Mother…is not the best when it comes to seasoning things.” She took care to not bump the gelding with the handles as she brought the wagon up to him. “It’s not that she under-seasons things, either: She _over-_ seasons them…and with herbs and spices that don’t really go with the dish.”

Ling stuck his tongue out in disgust. “Ugh. That sounds like one of the monks who… _tried_ to make food at the temple we grew up at.” With Ting-Ting’s help, he started to harness Yan. “He’s actually the reason Chien-Po started cooking. He got so sick of—well, getting sick from the guy’s food.”

She frowned. “Wait, his cooking would actually make people _sick_?”

“Sometimes,” he said with a shrug. “But the main thing that made Chien-Po sick was his use of basil. At the time, we didn’t know it was the basil doing it, but after a few years of not eating it, Chien-Po tried it in a dish and it made him start throwing up. His face also got covered in these really painful-looking welts. Ever since then, he’s made sure to avoid basil at all costs.”

“I would, too! That sounds like a horrible thing to endure. But, I now know why Su hasn’t been using basil lately.” She tightened one of the belts connecting Yan to the wagon. “Basil is actually her favorite herb.”

Ling’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, no! Really?”

She nodded. “Yes. I don’t know if she’s told Chien-Po, though. More than likely, she hasn’t. She wouldn’t want him to feel guilty about it.”

He went to the barn door and opened it fully. “I’m sure there are ways she can still use it without having to put it in his servings.”

“I am not sure, to be honest. I’m…not much of a cook.” She smiled apologetically. “I know how to make tea and how to cook rice, but do not ask me to do anything else unless you like burnt food.” Taking Yan’s lead, she guided him out of the barn, pausing to let Ling close the door again.

“I make an _awesome_ fried rice,” he grinned, puffing out his chest somewhat. “Didn’t even have help from Chien-Po when I came up with the recipe, either.”

“Is that so?” she giggled, her brow rising skeptically.

Enthusiastically nodding, Ling took the lead from her. “It’s really simple and has less than ten ingredients—the star being seared green onions.”

“Ooh, I _love_ seared green onions! They don’t even have to be in a sauce and I’d still be happy to eat them.” She walked alongside Yan as they started to leave the courtyard.

His cheeks turning a bit pink, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Guess I’ll have to make it for you sometime, then,” he said with a smile. “ _If_ Su lets me use her kitchen, that is.” They passed through the gate and started to down the road towards town.

“If you say ‘please’ and bring her an offering of persimmons, then I’m positive she will let you use the kitchen,” she giggled.

He jokingly snapped his fingers. “Dang! That means we’ll have to wait until winter. Unless she doesn’t mind dried persimmons…” A thoughtful look came to his face as he rubbed his chin. “I wonder if I could find any in the market today…” he teasingly murmured.

Giggling once again, Ting-Ting rolled her eyes. “Even if you can’t, I think a simple ‘please’ would work,” she told him before leaning over and kissing his cheek.

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” He smiled and shyly reached over, entwining his fingers with hers. “Wouldn’t want to incur her wrath, after all. May end up getting pickled…”

 

~*~

 

Zhu was soaking wet.

For three days, heavy, dark clouds had filled the skies, but not once did they threaten any rain. When she was two miles from home and it was nearing midnight, however, they had taken her and Umut by surprise and unleashed their burden onto the earth. What didn’t help was that this was the third night of the new moon.

Zhu couldn’t see _anything_.

Thankfully, Umut _could_ still see and she was able to find the way home easily enough. The only difficult part was having to watch Zhu stumble in the mud as she tried to find the handles to the gate. Once they were in the barn, however, it became easier for Zhu to navigate on her own.

“Hello to you lot, too,” she smiled, hearing the snorts and nickers of the other horses. Towards the back of the barn, she could hear the grunting of the oxen as their slumber was disturbed. Holding out her hand, she felt one of the horses—a large, tall stallion that she knew to be Ting-Ting’s stallion, Bohai—press his nose into her palm. “Hm. You’re in the wrong stall, Bohai. This is supposed to be Yanmei’s stall…”

After petting him, she continued down the line of horses. Most of them, she found, _were_ in their proper stalls. Bohai, Yanmei, and Xia, however, were in the wrong ones. Xia, she discovered, was in Umut’s stall; she didn’t mind and simply trotted her way into Xia’s stall for the night.

“You all sound happy enough, though,” Zhu murmured, making her way over to Umut. “Whoever cared for you did a fairly good job.” She started to undo the various buckles that held her saddle and saddlebags in place, carrying both over to the spare stall. Then, pulling the soaking wet blanket off Umut’s back, she wrung it out and set it overtop the wall.

Umut gave her shoulder a gentle nudge. _Go dry yourself_ , she heard in her mind. _I will be fine until morning. Go dry yourself and sleep._

“I am tired enough that I am not going to argue with you,” Zhu quietly chuckled. “Goodnight, Umut.” Giving the mare one last pet, she left the barn.

When she knew she was near the servants’ house, she started to walk a little slower. Every step she took was cautious and she made sure to feel ahead of her for the beginning of the stairs.

‘I should have brought my walking stick just in case,’ she thought with a frown. ‘I didn’t think I would be gone this long, though.’ Finding the stairs, she climbed the three steps and started to feel along the wall for the door. ‘That man should have listened to me when I said the camp was on the southern road, _not_ the northern…’

When her hands felt the change from relatively smooth plaster to smooth wood, she knew she had found the door. Taking a few minutes to pull off her boots, she then made sure to open the door slowly, wanting to make as little noise as possible. The same caution was taken as she made her way through the house and down the hall to her room. Once inside there, she let out a sigh of relief and silently thanked the Earth Mother that Yao hadn’t rearranged the furniture while she was away.

She then spent a solid five minutes struggling to get out of her wet clothes. Wet fabric clung to her skin, not wanting to let go. At one point while removing her under shirt, she nearly fell over when the garment got stuck on one arm and her head.

‘I am _so_ glad everyone is asleep right now,’ she thought, finally getting the thing off and tossing it to the ground. It landed with a wet-sounding ‘splat’ and she cringed. ‘I’ll…wring those out before I crawl into bed…’

It was as she was pulling on a dry dress—which one, she didn’t know or care—when she heard her door slide open. Spinning around, she uselessly tried to see who it was before remembering that she was blind.

“I know someone’s there,” she said, keeping her voice low for fear of waking the others.

“Zhu! You’re back!”

She suddenly stumbled backwards as her sisters flung themselves onto her. “What are you three doing up?” she asked, her voice a mixture of confused and scolding. “It is past midnight—you should be sleeping!”

“I was getting some water,” Mei explained. Her voice was muffled, telling Zhu that she was the one with her face smooshed against her stomach. “And I saw a shadow figure in front of the servants’ house.”

“And being the scaredy-cat that she is, she came and woke us up,” Su added. Her voice came from near Zhu’s ear, letting her know that she was the one dangling from her neck.

That left Ting-Ting as the one who was _trying_ to hug her normally. “We would also have woken mother, but she’s been feeling under the weather the last few days.”

Zhu frowned. “She’s ill? How bad is it?”

“Not bad at all,” Su promised. “It’s just a cold she caught from Mulan’s parents when she took them some egg drop soup.”

Mei nodded. “Su has been making sure us six have been ingesting as much fruit and medicinal concoctions as we can handle to ensure we don’t get sick.”

“Speaking of getting sick…” Ting-Ting pulled back from the hug; Zhu could tell she was frowning. “ _You_ are freezing cold, Zhu! How long were you out in the rain for?!”

“Two or three miles.” Though she couldn’t see their faces, she knew her sisters wore matching exasperated expressions. She felt two of the three pull away from her, though one remained. “I wanted to get home instead of staying the night huddled under a tree or attempt to find an inn while blind.”

“Ah, _that_ explains it,” she heard Mei say. She then tugged at her sleeve. “You’ve put on one of your formal dresses— _not_ one of your nightgowns.”

Zhu shrugged. “There is not much difference to me.” She covered her mouth as she yawned. “So long as I can sleep in it, I am fine.”

“Well, _I_ don’t want you to sleep in your good, formal dress.” She knelt down, going through Zhu’s trunk. “Ah, here we go…”

Shaking her head, Zhu let out a sigh. “Besides mother coming down with a cold, did anything of interest happen?”

“A few things, actually,” Ting-Ting said, a bit of a giggle to her voice. She pulled back the covers on Zhu’s bed and fluffed her pillows as Mei helped her into her nightgown.

“Is that so?” She winced slight as the nightgown was tugged over her head. “What sort of things?”

Su began to guide her towards the bed. “Well, for one, Mei and Ting-Ting have gone on a number of horseback rides the last few weeks,” she explained, her tone quite casual.

Zhu cocked a brow, an amused grin coming to her lips when she heard Ting-Ting and Mei giggle. “I take it that _one_ of the drunken goofballs remembered my suggestion.” She grunted as Mei suddenly hugged onto her again—tighter, this time.

“Zhu, it was a _brilliant_ idea!” she told her. “Yao and I have gotten to know each other so much more thanks to these rides!” She released Zhu, allowing her to crawl into bed. “And mother isn’t the least bit suspicious!”

“It helps that we told her we wanted to get better at riding,” Ting-Ting added, covering Zhu up with the blankets. “Which…isn’t too much of a lie, actually. Mei _is_ getting better in the saddle.” She sat down on the edge of the bed, Su and Mei copying her. “But it really _was_ a wonderful plan that is, so far, working quite well.”

“I am glad to hear things are going well,” Zhu said through a yawn. She rolled onto her side and slid her hands under her pillow. “Is there anything else I have missed?”

It was Su who answered. “There’s a festival coming up,” she said. “In three days. It’s called the Qixi festival.”

Zhu made a noise of intrigue.

“It’s a romantic festival,” Mei explained, “meant to celebrate the love between newlyweds and young couples. During the day, unmarried and newlywed women pray to the gods and show of their skills with domestic chores by participating in contests. But at night, it’ll be more like a traditional festival—food, games, more contests. The usual.”

“It sounds nice. I hope you have fun at the festival.” She yawned yet again, beginning to feel the effects of sleep taking hold.

“I am sure we will. And I am sure _you_ will, too,” Ting-Ting told her with a small chuckle.

Zhu mumbled something that her sisters couldn’t quite make out, though Ting-Ting was fairly certain she had said something along the lines of ‘Not going’. Rather than question her about it, however, she kissed her forehead and slid off the edge of the bed.

She watched as Mei and Su also kissed Zhu’s forehead before the three of them left her room. “Sleep well, big sister,” she said, voice quiet.

 

When Zhu woke up, it was to the smell of freshly brewed tea. Lifting her head from her pillow, she tried to see why the smell was so strong, but she found herself still blind.

“I’m sorry—did I wake you?” It was Chien-Po who spoke.

“No. The smell of tea did.” She pushed herself upright and carefully stretched, not wanting to hit him on accident.

He chuckled. “Then I _did_ wake you,” he told her, “by bringing the tea into your room. Welcome back, by the way.”

“Thank you.” She ran a hand over her hair. “Do you know what time it is?”

Picking up a tray, he set it over her lap. “After breakfast, but before lunch.” He gently grabbed her hands and set one on her bowl of food while the other came to rest on her eating utensils. “We made sure to save you some breakfast before Yao and Ling could eat it all.”

She laughed, her brow rising. “Thank you, again. I appreciate it.” Taking up her spoon, she gathered up a scoop of something—congee, judging by its consistency—and shoved it in her mouth, not caring about its temperature. She was _starving_.

“How was your trip?” he asked, pouring her a cup of tea as well. “Or is it confidential?”

After swallowing the bit of food (she was right; it had been congee), she answered. “Nothing confidential this time around. I had to help deliver some weapons to one of the training camps near the border with the Tibetan Empire.” She shoved another spoonful of congee in her mouth, finding herself pleasantly surprised when she found that this bite contained bits of bacon as well.

Chien-Po curiously tilted his head. “Is that all? Ling and Yao were convinced you had been sent to another country in order to conquer it.”

She snorted. “ _That_ is something Shang would be tasked with doing.” She both felt and heard as Chien-Po set the cup of tea on the tray. “Even then, he would have to wait some years until the army has been built up a bit more.”

“Very true.” He then frowned, seeing something that looked like dried blood on her wrist. “Did you get injured while away?”

Her brow rose. “No. Why do you ask?”

“You’ve got dried blood on your wrist.” His frown grew in size when Zhu’s cheeks darkened

“It is nothing,” she told him, pulling her sleeve down to cover more of her wrist. “Just a scratch I got because of a stupid incident.”

He didn’t seem convinced. “If it’s just a scratch, then why are you so determined to hide it?”

“Because even being reminded of its existence makes me embarrassed,” she told him. She then let out a heavy sigh. “I got it—I got it falling off of Umut.”

His eyes widen, though she didn’t see it. “ _You_ fell off _Umut_?”

“Yes,” she grumbled, shoving her spoon into the congee. “I _really_ had to relieve myself and did not pay attention when I was dismounting. My foot had gotten caught in the stirrup and I tumbled to the ground. The scratch came from a branch I landed on.”

He cringed at the thought. “I’m sorry. No one was around to see, I hope?”

She let out a sarcastic laugh. “Just an entire camp of trainees and _Tingfei_.”

His eyes widened in horror. “Tingfei!? What was he doing there!?”

“He is a lieutenant now and he is helping to train new soldiers.” She shoved the spoon into her mouth. “The only thing that shut him up afterwards was when he realized _who_ I was.”

“I take it you had to go in disguise?”

“Only for the actual delivery. I…was not supposed to let Tingfei know who I was, but he was cockier than ever—I had to do _something_.” She shrugged. “No one will believe him, though. After all, how can someone survive a tower of exploding fireworks?” She chuckled darkly, shaking her head. “Anyway…I have heard there is a festival coming up?”

He nodded. “Yes, there is. The Qixi festival.” Though he didn’t want to admit it, something about her story still seemed… _off_. Zhu wasn’t the sort to fall off a horse, no matter how little attention she paid to her dismount.

“Mei said it was a festival for lovers and newlyweds.” Feeling along the tray for the tea, she found the cup and lifted it. “Will you three be ‘escorting’ my sisters there?” There was a teasing grin on her lips as she took a drink of tea.

“I—I don’t know, to be honest,” he said, cheeks pinkening. “I’m not sure if your mother is going to allow us to be the ones to escort them. I know she told them that they weren’t allowed to go if you hadn’t returned.” He watched Zhu roll her eyes in annoyance.

“It is her way of trying to keep them from courting you three,” she explained. “She thinks that, by having me escort them, they won’t be able to be with you three. Even though she _knows_ I disagree with her.” Shaking her head, she leaned back against the headboard. “Maybe she thinks you three are intimidated enough by me that you wouldn’t try anything…Or, maybe, she plans on forbidding you three from going? I do not know…” Closing her eyes, she rubbed her face.

“I guess we will find out in a few days.” He reached over and gently patted her shoulder. “For now, though, you should finish eating and get dressed. No doubt, your sisters are going to want to come talk to you again once they hear that you’re awake.”

She nodded in understanding. “Alright. Thank you, by the way. For bringing me some food and listening to my miniature rant.”

He chuckled. “You’re welcome.”

Hearing the door slide shut, Zhu let out a sigh before going back to eating. It didn’t take her long to finish her meal. It did take her quite a while to get dressed, however. Unable to find her other trousers, she was forced to wear one of her dresses. They were difficult to put on while she had her sight; trying to put them on while blind was nearly impossible for her. Frustrated, she pulled out one of her tunics and a wide sash. She pulled the tunic on over the dress and used the sash to tie both into place.

‘I know I look ridiculous,’ she thought, shutting her trunk a little harder than what was needed. ‘But I refuse to continue fighting with those ties and trying to get them in the right place.’

She left her room and, walking stick in hand, made her way outside. It was warmer than previous day and the air had a sort of warm, damp smell to it. ‘The sun must be out,’ she thought, going down the steps. ‘Otherwise, the earth wouldn’t smell like it’s being steamed…’

Reaching the barn, she paused. She could hear someone moving around inside, but she couldn’t tell who it was. Using her staff, she checked to see if the door was open. Finding it shut, she shrugged and opened it, startling the person inside.

“Zhu! You’re awake!” Zhu was more than a little surprised to hear Mulan’s voice.

“What are you doing in here?” she asked.

“I’ve been helping Ling take care of the horses.” Her voice was quickly coming closer. “I saw Umut in here and I wanted to go see you, but Ling said you were still sleeping!” She hugged Zhu. “I missed you! I thought you’d only be gone a few days.”

A smile came to her lips as she returned Mulan’s hug. “I would have been home sooner if the man I was traveling with had listened to my directions. It took us a week to get back on the right path…” Her brow rose slightly; Mulan smelled like cherry blossoms and strawberries. The combination was strange, yet rather pleasant and sweet. It suited her. “You smell quite nice.”

She didn’t see Mulan’s cheeks turn pink. “Thank you,” she laughed, finally ending the hug. “While you were away, I received a gift from Shang. It was some perfume and a new necklace. I haven’t worn the necklace yet, but I’ll be sure to show it to you once you get your sight back.”

“I am sure it is just as lovely as the perfume,” Zhu chuckled. For some reason, hearing that it had been Shang who had chosen the perfume made her feel a bit disheartened. She should have been thrilled that Shang was finally taking some initiative with Mulan. “I hope the horses behaved themselves while I was away.”

Mulan giggled. “They were perfect sweethearts. The oxen, on the other hand…” She shook her head. “Just know that you now only have _three_ oxen to worry about.”

Zhu cocked a brow. “Slaughtered or sold?”

“Slaughtered.”

“Honghui?”

“Mhm.”

“Bastard deserved it.”

Mulan cracked up. “Ling did say that he was always giving you trouble.”

She nodded, resting some of her weight on her walking stick. “He was the one constantly trying to assert his dominance over the others…and over me.” Her lip pulled back in a slight sneer. “What was the final straw?”

“He tried to charge Mei.” She watched as Zhu’s eyes widened in anger and horror. “Yao got her out of the way, but it was Ting-Ting who stopped him.”

Zhu was gripping her walking stick so hard that it began to crack. “Please tell me neither of them go hurt.” It was obvious she was doing her best to keep calm.

“Everyone was fine,” she promised. “Ting-Ting was a little sore and Mei was understandably shaken, but no one was hurt.” Biting her lip, she glanced over her shoulder at Zhu as she wheeled a barrow over to one of the stalls. “Speaking of Ting-Ting, though…”

A small sigh left Zhu’s mouth. “You are curious about her strength, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she admitted, “but you don’t have to tell me if it’s supposed to be a secret.” She grabbed a shovel so she could begin removing the horse droppings from the stalls.

“I doubt it is much of a secret to you or the goofballs by now if she was the one to stop Honghui.” She moved to stand nearer to Mulan.

“Well, we don’t really know the _entirety_ of the secret,” she admitted. “We just know that Ting-Ting is abnormally strong. I have a theory, but…” Her voice trailed off into silence.

She leaned against a support beam. “What is your theory?”

Mulan was quiet for a few more minutes as she finished ridding the stall of feces. “She’s…not the Emperor’s daughter. She’s your full-blooded sister, isn’t she?”

“You are correct.”

“But—how? Your mother gave birth to her long after she was brought back to China.”

“My guess is that she was only a few weeks pregnant when she returned. I am not sure how she managed to _not_ miscarry, though, with how much stress she had gone through.” She then frowned. “Speaking of which…”

Mulan’s brow rose as she watched Zhu walk back to the barn door. She winced as Zhu let out a loud, sharp whistle. “What’re you doing?” She asked, starting to clean a second stall.

“I want to check Umut to see if she is pregnant.”

“You haven’t done that already?”

At that, Zhu laughed. “You have never had a mare, have you?” she chuckled.

“No. Only Khan.”

“It takes nearly a month for the first signs of pregnancy to start appearing on a horse—especially one of Umut’s size. Even then, the signs are not external and take some effort to find.”

“‘Not external’…? What is that supposed to mean?” She paused in her work, looking Zhu over with a great amount of skepticism. “Are you going to feel her stomach or something?”

Shaking her head, Zhu crossed the barn to the storage stall. “You will see. Can you please get me a bucket of soapy water, a rag, and bit of oil?” Feeling around the stall, she finally found what she was searching for: A heavy, leather apron.

Mulan frowned; she didn’t like the sound of that combination. But, setting aside her shovel, she left the barn and fetched the requested items for Zhu. When she went to Su to ask for some oil, she was left further baffled: Zhu hadn’t specified how _much_ oil she needed.

“Well, what’s she going to use it for?” Su asked, running a well-oiled rag along the inside of one of her woks.

“Something that has to do with checking to see if Umut is pregnant,” she explained. “I don’t really know why she needs oil for that, though…”

Su started giggling. “You don’t know how to check a mare for pregnancy?” she questioned. “Oh, I hope you’ve got an iron stomach.”

She didn’t like the sound of that, either. She watched Su dart into the pantry only to return with a small pitcher of clear oil. Thanking her, she grabbed the bucket and rag and headed back to the barn.

Not much to her surprise, Umut was standing in the center of the barn and Zhu was making quick work of braiding her tail. What did surprise her, however, was that Zhu was seemingly having a one-sided conversation with the mare.

“No, you are _not_ going to like this,” she was saying, “but it is the only way we can be sure.” She twisted the hair of Umut’s tail into a bun before using a wooden dowel to keep its shape. “Well, I am sorry, but if _someone_ hadn’t fallen for a certain stallion, then I would not have to do this.” She then started to roll her sleeve up, being sure to tuck part of it inside her dress to keep it in place. “Oh, do not give me that! There are ways us humans can have sex and avoid pregnancy! But you are a--” She suddenly went quiet, her cheeks growing dark red. “…Hello, Mulan.”

She was unable to stop herself from giggling. “Should I come back a little later so you can continue scolding Umut?”

“No, no…I am actually glad you are back. The sooner I get this done, the sooner we will know if Khan is going to be a father…”

“Would you like me to get him?” she joked. “I’m sure he’s dying to know, too.”

Zhu gave her a dry look. “Umut can tell him the news. Oil, please.”

Pressing the pitcher into Zhu’s hands, Mulan continued to chuckle. “You _can’t_ tell me that the possibility of having a foal running around doesn’t excite you.”

“It is not so much that,” she sighed, pouring the oil along the length of her arm. “It is more the fact that _if_ Umut is pregnant…I do not know if the baby will actually be a foal or if it will be some sort of djinn-horse hybrid creature.” She then started to rub the oil all over her skin, making sure her entire arm was coated.

Mulan frowned. “I…didn’t think of that, to be honest. Wait—are you going to shove your arm—” Her eyes widened in horror and disgust as she watched Zhu begin sliding her arm up Umut’s rear end. “What are you doing!?”

Zhu cocked a brow. “This is how you check to see if a horse is pregnant,” she said, voice dry. “This is also how you check cows, yaks, and other large farm animals. The only way to be sure that the animal is pregnant is by feeling their…birthing bits? Their womb? I am not sure what they’re called…”

Her nose was scrunched up in disgust and she found herself thankful that Khan was a stallion. “It’s still gross…”

“Yes, but necessary.” Her brows furrowed in concentration and she closed her eyes. Umut shifted uncomfortably; her ears stood erect and twitched every few seconds. Then, Zhu let out a sigh and started to remove her arm from Umut’s rectum. “Congratulations, Umut. You are going to be a mother. In a few months, I will be able to tell if it will be just one foal or two.”

Mulan laughed, handing Zhu the washcloth. She watched Umut whip her head around to stare at Zhu in disbelief. She made a strange noise—one she had never heard a horse make—before turning fully around and giving her rider a gentle nudge.

“You know _very_ well how this happened,” Zhu scolded, washing the excrement from her arm. “Now go tell Khan the good news. I need to finish washing up…”

“You don’t sound very happy,” Mulan frowned. She stepped aside, letting Umut hurry out of the barn. “I know you’re worried about the baby coming out half horse, half something else…”

“It’s only that,” Zhu assured her. She dunked the cloth into the bucket and gave it a shake before continuing to wash her arm. “I know the baby will, more than likely, be a completely normal foal…but with our luck, it will be some sort of freak of nature.” Shaking her head, she dunked the cloth a second time. “I am allowed to be worried.”

“Of course you are.” She walked over to Zhu and took the cloth from her. “And I know just the _perfect_ thing to get your mind off that worry, though it’s going to be a few days.” She started to get the spots Zhu had missed.

Zhu lifted her brow. “Are you talking about that festival coming up?”

She blinked, surprised that she knew about it. “You know about the Qixi festival?”

“Only a bit. Mei explained it to me last night, but I was too tired to really pay attention. Thank you, by the way.” She started to unroll her sleeve.

“You’re welcome. What were your sisters doing out of bed so late at night?”

She chuckled. “Apparently, Mei saw me come home and woke the others.” Giving her sleeve a shake, she adjusted it when it got caught on her damp skin. “From what I remember, she said it was a festival meant for lovers.”

Mulan nodded. “It is,” she agreed. “During the day, there’s a lot of praying and contests held between women. At night is when all of the fun things happen.”

“Well, if you go, I hope you have fun.” She reached behind her, untying the apron.

“You’re…not going?”

Giving the apron a shake in case any fecal matter had gotten on it, she started to take it back to the stall. “I do not know why I would go, to be honest. If it is a festival meant for young couples and newlyweds, I have no place there.”

At that, Mulan snorted. “Just because it celebrates those things, doesn’t mean you _have_ to be in a relationship to go!” she giggled. “You should go, Zhu! There will be contests, delicious food, and you can win prizes with some festival games! It’ll be a lot of fun!”

Zhu rubbed the back of her neck, frowning. “…Will there be fireworks?” she murmured, uncertainty filling her face.

But Mulan couldn’t see her expression, as she wasn’t in the stall with her. “Yeah, of course!” she grinned. “Almost all festivals have fireworks, silly.”

“Oh.”

Mulan frowned; she had never heard Zhu react in such a manner. “Are you alright?” she asked. Poking her head into the stall, she saw the look on Zhu’s face and watched as her pale eyes fruitlessly looked around her.

It was then she remembered.

“Oh— _Oh gods_ …” She bit her lower lip and gave her friend a pitying look. “Zhu, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot about—” She cut herself off and went over, giving Zhu a hug. “You don’t have to go to the festival if you don’t want. Especially if part of it is going to bring back bad memories.”

A quiet sigh left Zhu’s mouth, though she smiled and returned Mulan’s hug. “I could go for a little while,” she said, closing her eyes. Once more, the smell of cherry blossoms and strawberries filled her nose, bringing a strange calmness to her. “Just to see what it is like…so long as I leave before the fireworks start, I should be alright.”

She felt Mulan nod against her chest. “Is it the noise they make or the sight of them that bothers you more?” she asked. “Because if it’s noise, I can bring some waxy cotton just in case they start sooner than expected.”

“The noise. The sight of them, I am fine with. But, for some reason, the sound throws me into a panic…”

“Completely understandable.” She leaned back and looked up, finding a look of contentment on Zhu’s face. Her cheeks grew warm, though she wasn’t quite sure why. “You weren’t a fan of the sound before—before your death, either, if I recall.”

She nodded in agreement. “The cannons. They were stupidly loud.”

“Well, it’s a _little_ hard to have a _quiet_ explosion.”

“There has to be _some_ way to make them quieter. Maybe instead of completely hollow tubes, ones that are partially solid would help dampen the noise? Or using thicker tubes?”

Mulan laughed. “You’d have to talk to a firework maker about that,” she said. “I only know how to fire them, not make them.”


	20. 20

“Ooh, wearing the pink dress? I was wondering if you were ever going to wear it!”

Zhu felt her cheeks grow warm as Mei grinned triumphantly at her. “Oddly enough, it was the only piece of clothing I could find, aside from what I had been wearing,” she retorted, a brow rising.

“It wasn’t me,” she said, truthfully. “You can blame that on Su.”

Across the room, Su made no effort to defend herself. Instead, she wore a large, cheeky grin as she pulled on her shoes.

Shaking her head, Zhu sat down and started to comb through her hair. “You will not be wearing that grin when you find all of your cooking utensils dangling from the ceiling.”

“I’ll just have Chien-Po get them for me,” Su chirped.

Rolling her eyes, Zhu couldn’t resist smiling.

“What will you be doing with your hair?” Mei asked, coming over and taking the comb from her hands. “Would you like it up? I think you would look adorable with double buns—”

“No, no! Give her looped braids,” Ting-Ting told her. “The ones where you cannot tell where one begins and the other ends!”

“ _No_!” Su joined in. “She needs to have a combination of the two, otherwise she’d look too top heavy.”

Taking the comb back, Zhu shook her head. “For the most part, my hair is remaining loose,” she told them, a bit of firmness to her voice. She didn’t like it when they tried to get her to look like them. “I need _something_ to hide my back, since this shawl doesn’t do it.”

Mei pouted. “Oh, Zhu, no one’s going to pay any attention to your back!” she told her. “The blue of the shawl and its little embroidered flowers obscure the scars enough that they’re not noticeable unless someone is _trying_ to see them.”

“That may be true, but I still feel more comfortable with my hair further hiding it.” Using the comb, she did her best to evenly section out two locks of hair from the front part of her head. She made sure they were free of tangles before beginning to braid them.

Su snapped her fingers. “One of these days, we’ll get you to wear your hair up.”

“Find me an overcoat that is not sheer and perhaps I will.”

Her hands on her hips, Mei wore a determined look. “Alright then. I’ll whip you up a couple this week. Would you prefer long or short?”

“Either works, though I can hide more weapons in a longer coat.” She grinned and looked over her shoulder. “If you make a long one, could you sew a quiver into it, perhaps?”

“ _Ha, ha_ ,” Mei grumbled, sitting down in front of her vanity. Reaching over, she grabbed a small, clay pot. “After sewing sheaths throughout your guard uniform, I know better than to try to sew any other sort of weapon holder into your clothes.” She rubbed her middle finger in the contents of the pot—a waxy, red substance. “Do you know how hard it is to sew _leather_ into cotton or velvet without making it horribly obvious? The needles needed for leather are much thicker than the ones needed for cloth, so they have this nasty little tendency to leave _gaping holes_ in the fabric.” She finally dabbed the rouge onto her lips, staining them pink.

Ting-Ting chuckled, taking the pot from her sister. “Anyway, the shorter overcoats are easier to move around in,” she said. She, too, used the rouge to color her lips. She also used it to add some color to the apples of her cheeks. “Our dresses already have an excess of fabric; why add more with a long, flowing coat?”

“Says the one who’s wearing _pants_ tonight,” Su reminded her, a brow lifted.

She shrugged. “They were a gift from Aunt Chuntao that I haven’t worn in quite a while.”

Zhu cocked a brow. “We have an aunt named Chuntao?” With her braids now finished, she used a small clip to pin them together behind her back.

“ _We_ do,” Mei answered. “She’s related to our father.”

“Sadly, the only relative we have through mother is Uncle Chi-Fu,” Su frowned.

It took a great deal of willpower for Zhu to stop herself from saying something rather nasty about their uncle. According to her sisters, their uncle apparently had a nicer side to him, though it was rarely shown. Having never seen it herself, she refused to believe them.

“Zhu, are you going to wear any rouge?” Ting-Ting asked, applying the stuff to Su’s cheeks. She used it quite sparingly on their littlest sister, as her cheeks had a bit of a natural pinkness to them already.

She shook her head. “No, thank you.” Standing up, she straightened out her skirts. “I will wait for you three outside, alright?”

They nodded and waved her off as Mei brought out another container of makeup.

Once outside, she let out a small sigh and leaned against the wall of the house. ‘I hope tonight goes alright,’ she thought, closing her eyes. ‘I’m going to try to have fun, but I don’t think I will. After all, it’s a festival for lovers.’ The closest thing I’ll ever have to a lover is Mundzuc…’ A shudder ran down her spine.

“Are you cold?”

Her eyes shot open and she found her mother walking towards her. How hadn’t she heard her leave the house? “N-No,” she replied.

Zhi frowned, concern on her face. “Then why the shiver? Are you feeling feverish?” She came over and pressed the back of her hand against Zhu’s forehead. “You feel fine…”

“I _am_ fine,” she sighed. “I was just thinking about the possibility of being in town when the fireworks go off.” It was a lie, but it flowed from her lips as if it were the truth.

Zhi nodded slowly, thought she still looked a bit worried. “I am sure your sisters and Mulan will be able to help you should that happen.” Reaching over, she tried to push some stray hairs out of her daughter’s face, but they were stubborn and fell back into place on her forehead. “Why must all of you girls have these defiant hairs?” she chuckled.

“As we all share them, it must come from you,” Zhu smiled. “Which makes sense, as you are a rather defiant woman.”

She cocked her brow, amused. “I’m not sure whether I should take that as a compliment or an insult.”

“A compliment, of course.” She flicked a spider off her sleeve. “You do not happen to know where Su hid the rest of my clothing, do you?”

“…Su hid your clothing? Why in the world would she do such a thing!?”

“She did it as a way to force me into my least favorite dress.”

Zhi opened her mouth to speak, but the door opened and her other daughters came out of the house. “I was wondering if you three would ever finish getting ready,” she gently teased.

“We had to put on some makeup,” Su told her. “Ting-Ting and I _were_ going to go with just a bit of rouge, but Mei insisted we paint our eyes and lashes, too.”

“Having just the rouge on looked strange!” Mei retorted. “At least, it did to me.”

Zhi shook her head, amusement on her lips. “You three…” With a sigh, she took a step back so she could look over all four of her children. “All four of you look quite lovely.”

“Thank you, mother,” Ting-Ting said.

“I hope you girls have fun tonight.” She walked along the line of them, kissing their foreheads. “I will be at the Fa household most of the night, playing mahjong and checkers, so don’t be alarmed if you come back early and don’t find me here.”

They nodded in understanding. “We’ll try not to stay out too late,” Mei told her.

“Or come back drunk!” Su giggled.

Zhi cocked her brow once more. “I certainly hope not,” she smiled. “The last thing we need is for one of you to follow in your Uncle Chi-Fu’s footsteps.”

As her sisters cracked up, Zhu somewhat frowned. She didn’t question it, however. The other three started to walk towards the gate and she made to follow, but Zhi stopped her.

She said, voice quiet, “I know you’re going to let your sister run loose tonight so they can be with the lieutenants. And as much as we may disagree about letting them court, Zhu, _please_ promise me you’ll at least try to check on them every now and again.”

“Mother, they are adults. They no longer need a nanny to watch over them.”

“I know that all too well, Zhu.” She let out a heavy sigh. “It’s just…I do not want any of them to follow in _my_ footsteps.”

Zhu frowned. “What do you mean…?” She had a feeling she knew what her mother meant but wanted to be sure she wasn’t interpreting her wrongly.

She shook her head, sighing. “Never you mind. Just, please…check in on them once in a while. That is all I ask.”

“…I will try,” she replied, “but I can make no promises. Tianshui is rather large and with a festival taking place, it will be easy for them to get lost in the crowds.”

At that, Zhi smiled. “Yes, but I know if anyone could find your sisters in a crowd, it would be _you_ , my little one.” She then gently turned her around and gave her a gentle push. “Now go, have fun tonight. I will see you in the morning.”

Zhu nodded and headed off to catch up with the others. She found her sisters only a few yards outside the gate. They wore matching looks of concern as she came towards them.

“What did mother want?” Mei questioned.

“She asked me to make sure that none of you get into trouble,” she replied. “She…knows that you three are going to be with the lieutenants all night.”

Ting-Ting raised her hand to her mouth, worriedly nibbling on her finger. “She does? Is she going to scold us tomorrow…?”

“No, nothing of the sort,” she promised, beginning to walk towards town. “I think she has given up on trying to forbid you from courting. She just—she just wants you to be careful is all.”

“Careful?” Su snorted. “Careful about what? Getting too tight a hug from Chien-Po?”

“Or getting too many compliments from Yao?” Mei added with a giggle.

“Or laughing too hard with Ling at our jokes?” Ting-Ting grinned.

Zhu smiled, but said nothing. As her sisters continued to converse about their no-longer-secret relationships with the lieutenants, she let herself fall a few paces behind. She did her best to not listen to them. Inside her body, her stomach was in a free fall and a feeling of worthlessness had come over her. Unlike the other strange emotions she had been feeling lately, this one she knew well.

‘You shouldn’t be jealous of them,’ she scolded herself. ‘This could be the only chance my sisters get to have actual, loving relationships before they’re married off to some old, wrinkled nobleman in another part of the country. They deserve this. And…who knows…? Maybe I’ll go to one of those fortune tellers and find out that I’m destined for a happy marriage.’

A voice suddenly echoed through her mind. _‘…No self-respecting Chinese man or woman would_ ever _fall for a Hun, let alone their queen.’_

Her eyes closed and she clenched her jaw, mentally cursing Mundzuc for how right he was.

 

When they reached town, the women were greeted by the sight of the three lieutenants waiting for them. Seeing the princesses coming towards them, the men grinned broadly and hurried forward to meet them halfway.

“There’s our lovely ladies,” Yao grinned, having to stand on tiptoe to kiss Mei’s cheek. She giggled before leaning over and kissing him on the lips.

“Lovely?” Ling repeated, a brow raised. “I think you mean _gorgeous_.” He would have said more, but Ting-Ting pulled him to her and silenced him with a kiss.

Zhu felt her chest tighten and her stomach lurch. But…why?

“Sorry I wasn’t there to help with dinner,” Chien-Po said, leaning over and giving Su a hug. “I thought we would have been done with our volunteer work by then.”

“It’s fine, you big silly,” Su giggled, nuzzling his cheek. “I hope you didn’t fill up on street food yet, because I haven’t had dessert!” Taking his hand, she started to lead him off.

“Oh, you really need to try the grilled dumplings,” he told her, allowing himself to be led away. “They are filled with fruit and a sweet custard and…” His voice faded away as they disappeared into the crowd.

“I found a pair o’ ladies sellin’ some _exquisite_ hand-crafted beads,” Yao told Mei,  wrapping his arm around her waist. “They’re all made o’ glass an’ look perfect for your beadin’ work.” He, too, started to lead her off.

“Ooh, really?” Mei grinned, her eyes widening in delight. “I can’t wait to see them! And…maybe we could try some of those grilled dumplings, too? They sounded quite tasty.”

He nodded heartily. “O’ course we can! Anythin’ ya want to do, we can do it.”

“And _I_ found some really fun-looking games,” Ling told Ting-Ting, his hand taking hers. “Some of them have ridiculous prizes, but who wouldn’t want a giant stuffed sheep?” Laughing, he then looked at Zhu, taking her by surprise; the others had wholly ignored her. “There are a few contests you’d like happening soon, Zhu,” he said. “One of them is seeing how sharp you can get a dull knife in a certain period of time and another is an archery contest!”

Ting-Ting perked. “Those sound right up your alley, Zhu!” she grinned. “I’m sure you’d take home the grand prize in the archery contest!”

Zhu half-heartedly smiled. “I will be sure to check them out,” she said, voice a bit quieter than usual. “Have you seen Mulan yet tonight, Ling?”

“I think I _may_ have seen her near the center of town? I’m not sure. I haven’t actually seen her all day, to be honest.” He gave her an apologetic smile. “If we see her, though, we’ll be sure to tell her to go find you.”

She nodded. “Thank you. I will probably be wandering around, but I’ll try to stay nearer to the center of town.”

“Gotcha,” he chuckled. “Well, I hope you have fun tonight even if you don’t end up running into her.”

Ting-Ting nodded in agreement. “And participate in at least _one_ contest, alright? Win yourself a prize!”

“We’ll see.” She gave them a small wave as they started to walk off.

Before the pair could get more than three yards away, though, Ling stopped them and turned around. “By the way, you look really pretty tonight, Zhu. I’ve never seen you in pink before—it really suits you.”

She felt her cheeks grow dark. “Th-Thank you,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck. No one had ever called her ‘pretty’ before.

Ting-Ting giggled. “We’ve been telling her for _years_ to wear more pink.” She gave her sister another wave and walked off with Ling.

Zhu stood there for a moment, not entirely sure what to do. Now that she had seen her sisters safely to town, she wanted to go back home. The lieutenants were perfectly capable of watching over them, after all—if they weren’t _too_ distracted by the goings-on of the festival, that is.

But she also knew that there was a chance that Mulan was somewhere in that crowd. Mulan was the main reason she was here, after all. With a heavy sigh, she finally headed into the town proper.

Despite a festival taking place, the streets weren’t as crowded as she had expected them to be. They were still filled with people, but with no children and very few elders wandering about, there was plenty of room to move freely and not worry about bumping into someone by accident. Most of the people in attendance, she saw, were walking in pairs, either holding hands or having their arms wrapped around one another. This didn’t surprise her in the least, but it brought back the feeling of jealousy.

Zhu did her best to force the feelings from her mind and tried to focus on what was happening around her. Down the side streets, she could see that temporary vendors had set up stalls for games and for selling little trinkets that would bring a person luck in love. Somewhere near the center of town, music was being played. But nowhere did it look like an archery contest was being held.

Unable to find it herself, she decided to ask around in hopes of learning its location. It took her a few tries to find a person who had an answer, but she eventually came to learn that it was being held on the western edge of the city—in the tavern and brothel district. This surprised her; no doubt there would be drunkards trying to enter the contest.

‘I hope no one gets hurt,’ she thought as she started to make her way there. ‘If they’re smart, whoever is organizing the contest won’t allow any drunk people to enter and will have set up barriers to keep them from stumbling into the area…’

“Zhu!”

Her brow rising, she stopped and looked around. Hearing her name get called out again, she turned around only to find Mulan hurrying towards her. As she got closer, Zhu saw that she was wearing a rather familiar outfit: It was the dress she had worn when she defeated Shan Yu. The white underdress, however, had been replaced by a deep, crimson one that matched the accents of the overdress.

The combination of indigo and crimson, Zhu thought, looked especially nice on her.

“I’m glad you decided to come tonight!” Mulan grinned, finally reaching Zhu.

She shrugged. “I thought it would be nice to see what all the excitement was about,” she lied. She gave Mulan a smile. “That is a familiar dress.”

Blinking, she looked down at herself. “Hm…? Oh, yes. This old thing…” Her cheeks turned pink and she smiled a bit awkwardly. “Truthfully, it was the only clean thing I had left after Little Brother decided to get covered in mud and roll around in my room.”

“Funny. This dress was the only piece of clothing _I_ had left after Su hid the rest of my clothes.”

Her brow rose. “…Why did Su hide your clothes?” As Zhu began walking, she fell into step beside her.

“To force me into this dress.” She scrunched her nose up. “The dress itself is fine, but I have no other coat that goes with it other than this sheer one…”

Mulan cocked her head. “What’s so bad about that?” she asked. “It’s a warm night; I would think you’d _appreciate_ the sheerness.”

Zhu rubbed the back of her neck, glancing away. “My back is scarred,” she said, voice a bit quiet, “from the fireworks. I don’t like it to be seen.”

She nodded in understanding. “I see…Well, maybe Mei can make you a different coat to go with it? The dress itself is lovely on you, though. I wouldn’t have thought that you would suit pink so well.”

“…Ling said something similar,” she smiled, her cheeks darkening. “I think I still prefer to wear more neutral colors, though.”

Mulan laughed. “That’s because neutral colors help you blend into a crowd. I know how much you hate standing out.” Her eyes then widened slightly when she saw something in the distance. She grinned. “Have you ever had your fortune read?”

Her brow rising at the sudden topic change, Zhu shook her head. “Not that I know of, no. Why do you ask?”

“There’s a really good fortune teller just a few blocks away,” she explained. “She’s good friends with Grandma and her predictions are almost always correct.” She took Zhu by the arm, starting to pull her in the direction of the fortune teller. “Let’s go see what she has to say about our futures!”

She frowned somewhat but continued to let Mulan drag her; she wasn’t sure if it was such a good idea, learning her future. ‘What if there’s only more pain in my future?’ she thought. ‘I guess this could be a way to try and prevent that pain from happening…’

As they approached the stall, the elderly woman looked up at them and smiled, her eyes nearly disappearing under all her wrinkles. “Ah, Mulan! It’s good to see you again, my child!” she said, clapping her hands together. “And I see you’ve brought a friend! Come to get your fortunes read, have you?”

Both women bowed to her. “Yes, we have, Dandan,” Mulan replied with a smile. “It’s been a few years since I’ve had mine read and Zhu has never had hers read.”

Dandan’s eyes widened in shock. “You’ve _never_ had your fortune read, dear?” she gawked.

Zhu’s face, which had only just recovered from her last blush, turned pink once again. “No, I have not,” she answered, rubbing the back of her neck. “I…moved around too much as a child to really ever see one.”

She nodded slowly, though she didn’t seem entirely convinced. Regardless, she reached a hand out towards Mulan. “Then I will read Mulan’s palms first, as I have read them in the past.” She took Mulan’s hands in her own, carefully looking over the lines and creases of her palms. “Though hands don’t change much once you become an adult, even the subtlest changes can denote great events to come.”

Standing off to the side, Zhu watched as the old woman ran her finger along Mulan’s palm, tracing faint lines or feeling the bumps along the base of her fingers. She wondered how in the world a person’s future could be predicted by using their hands—it would be more understandable to read a person’s past from them.

At last, Dandan spoke, though she kept her eyes on Mulan’s palms. “Interesting…” she murmured. “Very interesting…it seems you have another adventure coming up.”

“Really?” Mulan asked, surprised by this news.

“Mhm. And…it looks like you’re going to have some difficulties in love,” she continued, pointing to a line on Mulan’s palm, “but in the end, all will work out and you will have much happiness.”

“That’s good to hear,” she chuckled, taking her hands back. “I wonder what the adventure is going to be?”

“Having to deal with three drunken goofballs is my guess,” Zhu joked. She stepped forward as Dandan beckoned to her and hesitantly held out her hands.

“Oh, no—your sisters are going to have to deal with them!” Mulan laughed. She stood beside Zhu, somewhat resting her cheek against her arm as she watched Dandan look over Zhu’s palms.

To Zhu’s dismay, Dandan began to frown almost instantly. “Oh my,” she murmured under her breath. A shiver ran down Zhu’s spine when the old woman ran her fingers along her palm; it somewhat tickled. “Interesting…”

“Is something wrong?” Zhu asked, brows furrowed.

“I’m afraid you’ve a number of hardships fast approaching,” she told her. “Many of them in your love life.”

She sighed and murmured, “ _That_ I already knew.”

“But after they’ve come to pass,” she continued, bringing Zhu’s hands just a bit closer to her face, “you’re in store for a great deal of happiness. When the hardships come to past, I see very little in the way of suffering in your future.”

Zhu cocked a brow; she wasn’t very sure she believed Dandan. It was nice, however, to think that there would be a time when she got to be happy. “And you saw all that just in the lines of my palm?”

“A person’s hands are an extension of themselves. No two are alike, even our own,” Dandan told her, letting go of her hands. “Every day, we use our hands to go about our lives and every day, our hands help to shape our future.”

She looked at her hands, her brow still raised. “Interesting,” she murmured.

Mulan smiled as she set some coins down on the wooden counter. “Thank you, Dandan. It was nice to hear that we both have some happiness to look forward to.”

The old woman nodded as she pocketed the coins. “Just remember to take care whenever the trouble arises,” she gently warned, “and that there will be calm waters after the storm strikes.”

The two thanked her again before wandering off towards another stand. This one was selling some sort of drink.

“I’m sorry you’ve got more trouble coming for you,” Mulan quietly told Zhu. She held up two fingers to the stall’s owner, who started to fill two large, wooden cups with a dark liquid. “But, from the sound of it, it’s going to be worth it? You’ve got a lot of happiness coming for you.”

She nodded, handing the man some coins before Mulan could get into her coin purse. “That is true,” she sighed, taking one of the cups. “But, it is also to be expected. With how my life has been, I was not really expecting anything terribly good.” As they walked away, she took a drink of the stuff. It was both fruity and spicy and, as it hit her stomach, sent a pleasant warmth through her body. “What _is_ this?”

“Plum wine,” Mulan answered before taking a drink herself. “Do you like it?”

“It’s delicious,” she admitted. “Are you _positive_ it is wine?”

She giggled. “Yes, I’m positive,” she said. “Not all alcohol tastes bad, you know. There are a few that taste pleasant.”

“Evidently.” She took another, longer drink.

“Do you want to go play some games?” she asked, looking up at her. “I know there’s an archery contest happening, but that’s not going to happen for at least another hour.”

“Why so long?”

She giggled. “Because the festival only _just_ started, silly,” she told her. “When the sun is fully set is when things begin to liven up.”

Zhu cocked a brow. “Strange. It looks rather alive right now.” She chuckled, looking around. Her insides were quite warm by now and she was thankful that she had made sure to have a bit of food before coming. “But…I suppose games sound fun.”

Mulan wore a triumphant grin as she turned them around. She took them to the eastern side of the village, where they found all sorts of strange games. There were games where the player had to get a ring around the neck of certain bottles; games where the player had to roll a ball up a ramp and try to get it in one of four target holes; games involving the throwing of darts at a spinning board; and, of course, there were games of Liar’s Dice.

It was the ring-toss game that Mulan excelled at. Zhu was more than a little surprised when she was able to continuously land the ring around the neck of the largest bottles. Since they were worth the most points, as they were the hardest to get the ring around, Mulan was able to quickly rack up a high score that won her a rather pretty mutton-fat jade necklace.

“Here,” she said, standing on tiptoe. She started to fasten the necklace around Zhu’s neck. “I’ve got enough necklaces.”

Feeling her cheeks grow warm, Zhu smiled shyly. “Thank you,” she said, looking the necklace over. It was a rope of creamy white jade beads with a flower-shaped bronze ornament in the very center. “Oh, speaking of necklaces: Is the one you’re wearing the one you got from Shang?”

It was Mulan’s turn to blush. Looking down, she picked up her own necklace. It had alternating beads of jade and beads of bronze resting on either side of a bronze coin. “Yes, it is,” she smiled, letting her thumb run over the engravings on the coin. There was a bit of sadness in her expression and she sighed, letting it fall back against her chest.

“You do not seem very happy about it.”

“Oh, I _am_ happy with it!” she assured her. “It’s just…” Sighing once more, she turned her gaze towards the ground. “I just wish he had been here to give it to me instead of having it brought to me by a messenger.”

“I am sure he wished he could have given it to you in person as well.” She set her hand on Mulan’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. She did her best to hide the sudden bout of sadness that she had begun feeling. “And I’m sure he wishes he could be at this festival with you instead of having to do boring military things.”

Mulan smiled up at her. “Thanks, Zhu.”

Giving her shoulder one more, small squeeze, Zhu looked down the street. “Let’s go play some more games. That one with the darts looks interesting.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll _easily_ have that one beat.”

She grinned. “Is there a chance we could get some more plum wine afterwards?” Her grin turned into a sheepish smile.

Mulan giggled. “Only _if_ you beat the game,” she teased.

Her brow rising, Zhu grinned. The two of them headed down the street to the dart game. The premise was simple enough: Throw three darts at the spinning wheel and hit the correct marker. But when she was handed the darts and the wheel started to spin, she came to realize that this would be a harder game than she thought.

It took her three attempts, but she eventually won a prize—it wasn’t the grand prize, but it was still a prize. It was a length of a candy called ‘dragon’s beard’—a lot less elegant than the necklace Mulan had won. But once she tasted a bit of the candy, she found herself rather satisfied.

“This is good,” she said, sharing it with Mulan. “Normally, I prefer fruit flavors to sweet, but this is not overwhelmingly sweet.”

“That’s one of the reasons why I love dragon’s beard candy,” Mulan smiled. She carefully twisted a bit of the candy into a small ball. “And it’s only made during festivals!” She popped it into her mouth, making a pleased sound.

She cocked her brow. “Why is that?” she asked. Spotting a wine vendor, she headed in that direction.

“It’s hard to make,” she answered, having tucked the candy into her cheek. “It involves pulling hot sugar over and over again until it makes all these teeny, tiny ropes.”

“Interesting…I wonder if Su knows how to make it?” She held out her empty cup to the wine vendor, watching as he filled it. He then filled Mulan’s, which was only half empty, before taking the coins Zhu handed him.

“She may.” She took a sip of the wine before trying to sneak some more of the candy from Zhu.

“You do not have to sneak, you know,” Zhu chuckled. “Feel free to take as much as you want.”

“Don’t tell me that or else I’ll grab the whole thing!” She laughed and made to take another sip of wine, though she very nearly spilled it all over her as she tripped over an unseen rock. Thanks to a mixture of Zhu catching her and her own reflexes, she was able to keep her dress wine-free and her cup mostly full.

“Perhaps we should find somewhere to sit?” Zhu suggested, her brow raised in amusement. “Or somewhere to stand still?”

“That sounds like a plan,” she said, smiling bashfully.

Forgoing the rest of the games, the two made their way to the center square, which was still rather crowded. This being where the musicians were, dozens of couples formed a circle around them, dancing in time to the music they played.

“It’s so colorful,” Zhu murmured, her head tilted somewhat as she took a long drink of her wine. Across the square, she spotted Chien-Po with Su on his shoulders. They weren’t dancing, however; they seemed to be heading for the game vendors.

“It is, isn’t it?” Mulan smiled, sipping her own wine before taking a bit more dragon’s beard candy. “Usually, people are dressed in their everyday clothing…but I guess this year, they decided to wear somewhat nicer clothes.”

Zhu took a bit of candy as well. “You know…I once heard someone say that the more colors that are found in a town or city, the happier the people are.”

She glanced up at her. “Really?”

“Mhm. I guess that means the people of Tianshui are incredibly happy.” She smiled, though it was a half-hearted one. “And why shouldn’t they be? Look how many of its citizens get to attend a festival with their lovers and celebrate their love tonight.”

Mulan bit her lower lip and lowered her gaze, staring into her wine. “Is…that why you don’t wear many colors?” she asked, her voice quiet enough that Zhu just barely heard her. “Because you’re not happy?”

Her brows furrowing, Zhu looked down at her. “I’m happy. I just…feel more comfortable in less colors.” She shrugged. “I grew up wearing greys and blacks. Suddenly having all these colorful clothes is just a bit—a bit overwhelming.”

She nodded in understanding. “So long as you’re happy,” she said before sipping some of her wine.

“Why are you so concerned about my happiness?” Zhu chuckled. She took a long drink from her own cup.

Mulan didn’t look at her once again. “It’s just…lately, it seems like you’re only pretending to be happy. I could just be reading you wrong, but your smiles don’t always seem to reach your eyes.”

She opened her mouth to counter Mulan but ended up saying nothing. Closing it again, she shut her eyes and quietly cursed. Mulan _wasn’t_ reading her wrong; had she done a bad job of hiding her emotions? No, that couldn’t be it. Otherwise, her mother and sisters would be fretting over her. So how could Mulan tell…? Was it because she was her best friend?

“I am happy,” she finally said, “ _most_ of the time. But sometimes—sometimes, I start feeling strange. It’s not anger or jealousy or sadness, but—but it kind of feels like a weird mix of all three with some added anxiety?” She shook her head. “I don’t really know how to explain it. But, I promise you: I _am_ happy.” A reassuring smile came to her lips before being hidden behind her cup.

The plum wine was _good_.

“Good…good.” She rested her head against Zhu’s arm, closing her eyes. “I know you have a lot of responsibilities right now between watching over your mother and sisters; caring for all the horses and oxen; and having to be the Emperor’s errand girl…” She shook her head against Zhu’s arm. “And to top it all off, you’re learning new emotions that you never really felt before. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if what you’re feeling is stress.”

“I have felt stress before, though. It never felt like this.”

“Stress comes in all sorts of different forms.” Opening an eye, she looked up at her. “The stresses of being a warrior have different effects on a person than the stresses of being a caring big sister.”

“That is true.” Part of her wanted to wrap an arm around Mulan’s shoulders and hold her a bit closer. But why? She had never wanted to do such a thing before…Trying to force the thought from her mind, she finished off her wine. “What should we do next?”

Mulan thought for a moment. “We’ve already been to the fortune teller and we’ve already played some games…Maybe we should head over to the archery contest?”

She nodded in agreement. “Alright then. I wonder what the prize is for it?” Upon standing, she wobbled for a few seconds as her vision seemed to swim. It quickly returned to normal. ‘Uh oh,’ she thought. ‘I’m starting to get drunk…Oh well. This should make the contest interesting…’

Mulan, too, wobbled when she stood. As Zhu looked down at her, she found her cheeks flushed and half her cup empty. Her brow rose; so Mulan was a lightweight when it came to alcohol…

The two of them made their way through town, Mulan pointing the temporary shrines set up to Niulang and Zhinü. She also explained _who_ the two lovers were and why the festival was celebrated in their honor. Zhu found it an interesting tale; the bit about the magpies forming a bridge, especially, intrigued her. Then again, any myth involving animals intrigued her because they almost always had human-level intelligence.

Reaching the western side of town, the two found for different targets set up at the end of the street. Long, red ribbons sectioned the areas off from passersby. Zhu was surprised by the number of people here; it was almost as many as in the center square.

Mulan took her over to a podium where a pair of men were standing. Each had a sheet of paper that they were writing things down on—the names of the competitors, probably.

“Hello, Mulan!” one of the men said as he saw them approach. “Come to watch the contest, have you?”

“I’ve come to watch, but my friend here would like to enter,” she replied with a smile.

The man’s smile faded as he looked at Zhu. “Ah, sorry, but only men are allowed to enter the archery contest.”

Zhu frowned. “Why is that?”

“Well, it’s so the men can show off to the women that they’re capable hunters and can provide for their families,” he explained. He then chuckled, rubbing the side of his neck. “As far as I’ve seen, women aren’t too good with a bow anyway.”

“And what if I wished to show off to the women _and_ men that _I_ can provide for my future family?” she retorted, brow furrowed.

Mulan bit her lower lip as she glanced up at Zhu. “I assure you, Zhu is _excellent_ with a bow,” she told the man, somewhat stepping in front of her friend. “She can put even the Emperor’s best archers to shame.”

A mix of pity and amusement came to the man’s face. “I’d like to believe you, Mulan, I really would, but the rules are still rules. She’ll have to enter one of the women’s contests.”

Nodding, she quickly pulled Zhu away from the podium before her anger could get the best of her. “Ignore him, Zhu,” she told her. “If he knew just how good you were, he’d let you join the contest.”

“Being able to use a bow doesn’t automatically make a person a good hunter,” she grumbled. “You have to be able to track the animals while also taking care to not alert them of your presence! You have to know _where_ on the animal to hit so that their death is as quick and painless as possible!”

 “I know, I know. But they’re _men_. On a night like tonight, their only thoughts are about showing off and potentially bedding someone.” She patted her on the shoulder and offered her the last of her wine; with Zhu beginning to grow tipsy, she knew _one_ of them had to stay somewhat sober.

Zhu grumbled, taking the wine. “I’m tempted to steal one of the bows and some of the arrows so I can hide on some roof and hit the targets…” She took a drink.

Mulan couldn’t help but giggle. “We can, if you’d like,” she said. “The bows are just over there.” She nodded towards a bucket resting near the start of the ribbon. “You’d definitely put them in their place!”

A small laugh left her mouth; her head suddenly felt quite light. “As much as I would love that, I don’t think it is such a good idea right now. If I were sober, perhaps.” Tilting her head back, she drained the rest of the wine. As she lowered her head, the world swam before her and she stumbled.

“Careful there,” Mulan giggled, helping Zhu to steady herself. “I think you’ve had enough wine for tonight.”

“I think so, too,” she giggled. “It—it really hit me hard all of a sudden.”

Mulan’s brow rose; she had never heard Zhu _giggle_. Nor had she ever seen Zhu drunk. She found it rather adorable. “Let’s go get you some food,” she chuckled. “It may help offset your drunkenness.”

Zhu grinned at her. “That’s—that’s a really good idea!” she laughed. “Oh, can we get some of those…some of those fruity dumplings Chien-Po was talkin’ about? He said they were filled with fruit an’ custard an’ they sounded _real_ good.”

Unable to stop herself, Mulan started to laugh. “We can get you any kind of food you want, Zhu,” she smiled. “So long as you don’t eat yourself sick.”

“I won’t, I pro—” She suddenly yelped and clung onto Mulan as a firework exploded in the sky above them.

“Oh, gods, they’re starting early,” Mulan groaned as a second one went off. She could feel Zhu shaking as she hung onto her and, when she managed to get a look at her face, she found her skin pale and tears starting to stream down her cheeks. “Oh, gods…and I forgot to bring the cotton! Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

“ _Please_ ,” Zhu whimpered. “Please. I’m scared.”

Biting her lower lip, Mulan reached over and covered Zhu’s ears with her hands. Their height difference meant that the taller woman had to lean down in an uncomfortable fashion. Her panic over the fireworks far outweighed her pain, though.

Thanks to having grown up in Tianshui, Mulan thankfully knew all the city’s shortcuts. And, with many of the smaller side streets empty, they were able to leave rather quickly. But the firework’s explosive sounds didn’t start to fade away until they were nearly a half mile from town.

When the fireworks were just a small ‘boom’ in the distance, Mulan finally uncovered Zhu’s ears. “There,” she said with a sigh, “we’re away from the noise.”

“Thank you,” Zhu mumbled, still holding onto Mulan. “You got me out of there fast…”

“Of course.” She smiled, patting Zhu’s arm. “I’m just sorry I forgot the waxed cotton. I really should have remembered! I even set it on my bedside table so I wouldn’t forget.” Her brow rose and her cheeks darkened a bit as Zhu nuzzled her cheek.

“It happens,” she mumbled. “Sometimes…sometimes our memory likes to be stupid.”

Giggling, Mulan lightly shook her head. “Zhu, do you have any idea how adorable you are when you’re drunk?” she gently teased.

“No. But I know that I’m _veeeery_ clingy!” A cheeky grin came to her lips, making Mulan laugh harder. “An’—an’ I know _you_ have an adorable laugh.”

“Is that so?” Her brow rose in amusement once again.

“Mhm.” Yet again, she nuzzled Mulan’s cheek. “You’re just…just an adorable _person_ ,” she continued. “Except when you’re mad. Then you’re _kind of_ a little scary. I think. Have I ever seen you mad?” She frowned as she tried to remember if she had ever seen Mulan angry. “I don’t think so…but you’d still be kind of a little scary if you were.”

Rolling her eyes, she shifted Zhu a little bit so that her chin wasn’t digging into her shoulder. “I’ve seen _you_ mad,” she told her. “Now _that_ is frightening.”

“It’s because of my dumb eyebrows. They’re all…weird an’ stuff. An’ my sharp teeth. Well, they used to be sharp. I had to file them down a bit. Emperor’s orders. Said I had to try an’ look more Chinese and less Hunnic.” She blew a raspberry. “The Emperor is an asshole.”

“It would certainly seem he’s not quite the grandfatherly figure I once thought him to be.”

Zhu shook her head, sighing. “He’s nice to everyone else, but to me, he’s just an—an asshole. An’ he’s starting to be one to Ting-Ting, which isn’t fair at _all_. An’ it’s all because we’ve got his wife for our mother an’ a Hun for a father. As if we could do anythin’ about bein’ born.”

Mulan wasn’t sure if she felt thankful or sad that she could see their houses in the distance. “Very true. He should give you two the same respect he gives everyone else—Ting-Ting, especially, since he raised her!”

“I know!” she gasped. “Blood or not, he’s her _father_. He raised her an’ he taught her things an’ he had so much pride in her! But then she went an’ showed off her strength somehow an’ suddenly, she’s not his favorite eldest anymore.” She blew another raspberry.

“…At least she seems to be quite happy out here?” she offered. “Gods know she’s getting enough freedom.”

Chuckling, she nodded and closed her eyes; she didn’t need to worry about where to walk since she still held Mulan. “She’s very happy out here. So are Mei ‘n Su. They’re thrivin’ out here. No nursemaids…no tutors…no snobby, stuck up princes tryin’ to get their dowries.”

“Just three goofball lieutenants who want to give them the world.”

“…Yeah. They do really want t’ give them the world, don’t they?” Her voice had suddenly grown quiet and sullen. “Since they first saw my sisters, they’ve been head-over-heels for ‘em. An’ my sisters have been head-over-heels for them, too. ‘Cept Su. She don’t feel romantic or sexual things. But Chien-Po’s her best friend. Like you’re _my_ best friend! But he’s a different sort of best friend.”

“Well, it makes sense, doesn’t it?” she asked with a small smile. “If you’re best friends with someone, you know them as well as you know yourself. And that’s a good thing to have if you’re married to someone.”

Zhu glanced over at her. “Yeah, it does…” she murmured. “Mulan, do you think there’s a way for my sisters to marry the goofballs?”

“If I recall correctly, you told me that love always finds a way. And they’re certainly in love.”

Again, she nodded. “Wish I knew what love felt like,” she sighed. “Sounds like it’d be somethin’ nice to feel.”

“It can be,” she chuckled. “It can make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside and make you feel happier than you ever thought possible. But it can also make you feel sad and angry, leaving your insides feeling like they’re in a constant free fall while the rest of you just feels unhopeful. Even worse is when love makes you feel jealous and hurt. That’s when it gets hard to breathe—because your chest feels tight and there’s a lump in your throat that just won’t go away.”

“Do you feel all of that when you think about Shang?” she mumbled.

“Sometimes,” Mulan admitted. “I’ve felt the happier parts more often than the others…but…”

“But…?” She tilted her head, trying to look at Mulan’s face.

“But…lately, I’ve been feeling more and more unhopeful,” she sighed. “I love him, Zhu. I really do! But it’s so hard. He hasn’t told me how he feels yet and he’s always so far away…” She bit her lower lip. “I know I should be more optimistic _because_ I know he loves me. But with my parents wanting me to be married sooner rather than later and the distance between us…”

“It’s hard to—hard to think that anythin’ can come of it?”

She nodded, tilting her head to rest it against Zhu’s. “Yeah…”

Zhu gave her a gentle squeeze. “Mulan, a woman like you only—like you only comes around every few dynasties. Shang knows that! An’ he’s going to try his damnedest to make sure he doesn’t have to wait another six dynasties for another chance.”

Mulan couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t think he’d _live_ another six dynasties, Zhu.”

“If he loves you enough, he would. Fuck, _I’d_ live another six dynasties if it meant gettin’ to see you again.” She frowned somewhat. “…How long are dynasties, by the way? I don’t really know…I don’t even really know what a dynasty is.”

She laughed again and shook her head. “Oh, Zhu…you are _so_ drunk.”

“At least I can still walk!”

“Just _barely_. You have to hold onto me to walk.”

“Nuh-uh. I’m just very—just very clingy.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’ve reached your home, isn’t it?” she chuckled. Pushing open the gate, she helped Zhu through the courtyard and into the servants’ house. Once inside, she kept Zhu upright as she kicked off her shoes.

It was as they were walking down the hall towards her room that the two noticed something wasn’t quite right. Mulan pressed a finger to her lips as they stopped outside her door. There were strange noises coming from behind them, in Ling’s room.

Her brows furrowing, Zhu finally let go of Mulan and, gathering what bit of sobriety she had left, crept across the hall. Very slowly so as to make as little noise as possible, she slid open the door to Ling’s bedroom just a fraction of an inch—enough to let her peer inside.

She suddenly wished she hadn’t.

Through what little light there was, she could see the silhouettes of Ling and Ting-Ting on his bed. Just as slowly as she opened it, she closed the door. The second it was shut, tears started to pour from her eyes—but why? Why was she starting to cry, damn it?! It was all too obvious that Ling was making Ting-Ting _very_ happy and she _wanted_ her sister to be happy. Not to mention, Ting-Ting and Ling were adorable together!

In fact, they were almost as adorable as Shang and Mulan.

Her chest grew even tighter and a lump began to form in her throat.

“What is it?” she heard Mulan whisper. “Please tell me it’s not—”

“It is,” she whispered back, her voice a bit hoarse. Thankful for the darkness that surrounded them, she held onto the wall as she crossed the hall and slid open her bedroom door. Once it was open, she stumbled into her room. She used her sleeves to wipe her face; she couldn’t let Mulan know she was crying. When she tripped over the hem of her dress, Mulan darted forward and caught her.

“Careful,” she whispered, helping her to sit down on the edge of her bed. “We don’t need you getting hurt.”

“Dumb dress did it,” Zhu mumbled. She leaned over as Mulan also sat down, resting her head on her shoulder.

Mulan lightly patted her knee. “It’s a pretty dress, but evidently a deadly one,” she quietly teased.

She managed a small smile, though she knew she couldn’t see it. “Assassin dress…makes all its kills look like tragic accidents.”

Snorting, Mulan clapped a hand over her mouth. “Is that the sort of dress you wish Mei would make you?”

“Don’t need to wish. She made it already. I’m wearin’ it an’ it wants _me_ dead…or wants me t’ go around naked. Not really sure.” She wiped her face again, but the tears were still coming.

Thank spirits for the darkness.

Mulan continued to keep her mouth covered as she giggled. “I am going to remind you of everything you said tomorrow, I’ll have you know.”

“Spirits help me,” she mumbled. “…Mulan…?”

Wiping away a tear of mirth, Mulan cocked a brow. “Yes?”

“Can…can you stay here? With me, I mean? Just for tonight?”

A look of concern came over her features, though Zhu couldn’t see it. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Starting to get a headache,” she half lied. “But…I just don’t wanna be alone. Not when I’m drunk. Don’t know why.” She closed her eyes and leaned into the embrace as Mulan hugged her.

“Of course I’ll stay,” she said, giving her a soft squeeze.

“Thank you.”

Trying to be as quiet as possible, the two women changed into their sleeping clothes. For Zhu, that meant an actual nightgown. For Mulan, it meant sleeping in her crimson under dress. Once in a while, the two could hear certain sounds emanating from Ling’s bedroom, but they did their best to ignore them.

Upon crawling into Zhu’s bed, Mulan found herself surprised to discover that it smelled of jasmine—a scent she would have never associated with Zhu. But it was pleasant and made her start to feel drowsy. Without even realizing it, she wrapped her arms around Zhu when she curled up beside her, holding her protectively.

“Good night, Zhu,” she yawned. “I hope you don’t wake up too sore in the morning.”

“I hope so, too,” Zhu murmured. “Sleep well, Mulan. Have nice dreams.”

She chuckled. “You, too, you silly.”

Zhu let out a nearly-silent sigh. Her mind was filled with too many thoughts for her to fall asleep. Why did she have such an adverse reaction to catching Ling and Ting-Ting being intimate? And why did thinking about Shang and Mulan as a couple make her feel so…so jealous? To add to the thoughts, she also remembered feeling almost _shy_ when Ling and Mulan had complimented her dress that evening.

But then she started to remember how Mulan described the various ways love could feel. How it could make a person happy or make them angry or sad or jealous. How she had felt all those things—at different times, of course—whenever she was around Mulan and Ling.

Her eyes suddenly shot open.

‘Spirits help me,’ she thought, staring at the sleeping form that was Mulan. Only a few inches separated their faces on the pillow. ‘I’m in _love_ with them…’

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little note before ya'll start reading: I just want to say that, last chapter, I was overwhelmed by how many of you supported Zhu being in love with Mulan *and* Ling. I've been kind of dreading posting the last chapter because I *know* Mulan/Shang is basically the favorite pairing of the fandom--and it's one of my favorites, too!--but I also know that people can be protective of their ships when the fandom is so small. As such, I was braced to receive hate for the decision, but...There was none. Which, frankly, surprised me (and was a huge relief for my anxiety tbh lmao). So...yeah. I just wanted to say a little 'thank you' to you guys for being awesome and for continuing to read this fic. I'd insert some heart emojis, but they'd just get eaten by the site.

_Everything was on fire._

_She didn’t care._

_By now, Zhu was all too used to the scene that had resulted from hers and Shan Yu’s deaths. The exploding fireworks, the cheering of the crowd, the sulfuric air…She could have cared less about them. Time and time again she had stood in this spot, watching the world burn._

_Frankly, it now bored her more than scared her anymore._

_But there was something different this time; something almost startling. Qi was nowhere to be found. She turned around, looking everywhere for him. There was no trace of him to be found—but why? He had always been here before. Why was he gone?_

_Had she finally forgiven herself? Or was he going to appear at any second?_

_‘Why be here if he’s not going to shout at me?’ she thought, her eyes narrowed. Warily, she approached the banister. The flames licked at her skin, but she felt nothing. ‘Or is this Chien-Po’s talisman at work? If so, then why not also block this entire scene?’_

_“This is an interesting view.”_

_She tensed, her brows furrowing. From the corner of her eye, she watched as Mundzuc came to stand beside her, his arms crossed over his chest._

_“I had always wondered how an emperor would feel as he looked down at his citizens,” he continued, not looking at her. “To have the masses bow down to him in admiration…This isn’t_ quite _what I had imagined, but it’s a good estimate.”_

_“If you’d like, I can throw you over the railing so you can be with the Emperor below,” she retorted dryly. “You’ll be just a little dead, but you’d have the attention of the entire Imperial City.”_

_His brow rose. Saying nothing, he quickly moved his hand towards her. A smirk came to his lips as she flinched, raising an arm to protect her face. “I thought that may still work.”_

_She swallowed hard, glaring at him. “You’re an ass.”_

_“Am I now? Interesting. Then I suppose you wouldn’t want to hear the bit of news I recently heard.”_

_Her eyes narrowed again; she wasn’t sure she should believe him or not. “…What kind of news?”_

_He turned, facing her as he reached out an arm, making her flinch once again. Instead of hitting her, however, he merely tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “One that could, quite possibly, decide the fate of your beloved mother and sisters.”_

_Zhu grew tense yet again; how did he know about them!?_

_Mundzuc chuckled. “You’re_ very _good at sharing your dreams,” he told her. “I’ve seen many things you’ve dreamt over the last few months…The silly dresses Mei wants to put you in. The wonderful food Su makes for you.” He ran his fingers along her jaw, his eyes focused on her lips. “How hard Ting-Ting can make you laugh. How you and your mother butt heads over your sisters’ lives.”_

_“Don’t you_ dare _speak of my family as if you know them!” she snarled, smacking his hand away. “How the hell are you even able to see them?!”_

_He seemed more amused than upset at her reaction. “As I said: You are very good at sharing your dreams. Now, do you want to hear the news I have or would you rather remain ignorant to something so important?”_

_Zhu clenched her fists, feeling her nails breaking the skin of her palms. “Tell me,” she said through gritted teeth._

_He started to walk around her like a predator circling its prey. “My brothers know that the emperor has betrayed them,” he told her. “They know he’s sent his daughters into hiding. Where, though, they don’t know.”_

_“And just_ how _did they come to know that he’s sent them into hiding?” She remained still, watching his every move._

_“_ That _I do not know. Maybe their spies have finally learned something useful. Maybe there’s a turncoat within the palace walls. Or maybe the people of China are concerned that they haven’t seen their beloved princesses in nearly five months.” He took a step towards her; she took a step away._

_“What are they going to do?” she demanded. “Are they going to send their spies throughout China to find them? Or are they going to attack the Imperial City in retaliation?”_

_He let out a sigh and leaned back against the railing. “Again, I do not know. But I do know that they’ve learned that_ you _are alive as well. And they aren’t at all happy about it.”_

_The fireworks suddenly stopped, though neither noticed._

_Zhu’s frown deepened. “Why is that? I’m nothing to them.”_

_“‘Nothing to them’?” he repeated with a sarcastic laugh. “Do you not remember what you did to them?”_

_“I haven’t the faintest idea of what you’re talking about,” she retorted, brow rising. “I’ve never met your brothers.”_

_“Oh, but you have!” he cackled. “Do you truly not remember? Or_ _have you forgotten how you so utterly humiliated my brothers in front of, not just their own army and our father, but the entirety of Shan Yu’s army as well after your uncle promised them your hand?”_

_“I’ve defeated hundreds of men in battle,” she hissed. “They all started to look alike after the tenth kill.”_

_His arm reached out and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. “They want you dead, Shan Zhu, and they will stop at_ nothing _to get you. But it will not be a quick death. Oh, no.” Pulling her closer to him, he grabbed her arms, pinning them to her sides as he whispered beside her ear. “You’ve seen what I’ve done to my enemies when I want them to die in agony. You’ve seen how I’ve slowly peeled the skin from their muscles inch by torturous inch. You’ve seen how I’ve ripped the hairs from their scalps, one lock at a time. But that is_ nothing _compared to what my brothers will do to you once they get their hands on you.”_

_“Then I’ll just have to kill them if ever they find me.” She cried out in pain and stumbled back as Mundzuc struck her across the face._

_Around them, the flames began to die._

_“Have you grown stupid?!” he shouted. “They will hunt you down for as long as it takes! They will hunt you until you’re so utterly exhausted, you’ll welcome death.” He grabbed her again, this time by the back of her head. “But they won’t let you have it. No. They’ll peel your skin, salt the wounds, and then heal them so they can do it all over again! They’ll cut your skin and let maggots devour your flesh!”_

_Though she winced in pain, she snarled at him. “I’d like to see them try,” she hissed._

_“Oh, but while you are distracted by my brothers, they would send their army after your sisters. They would kill those pathetic lieutenants that guard them. They would kill your mother. They would know better than to rape your sisters, but that lovely friend of yours? The one who ‘saved’ China? They wouldn’t hesitate.”_

_As he spoke, Zhu’s face filled with horror and her eyes began filling with tears. He knew what was going through her head: Visions of her loved ones dying. Zhu knew he was right. With a sigh, he let go of her completely, his expression and voice softening. “You may be able to protect yourself well enough, Shan Zhu, but even you can’t protect yourself_ and _your loved ones.”_

_She squeezed her eyes shut, turning away from him. “…Then I won’t protect myself. I’ll protect them. I would always choose them over myself.” Sniffling, she used her sleeve to wipe her face. “I don’t care what they would do to me. If it meant they’d never find my sisters, then so be it.”_

_“There…is one way you can guarantee both their safety and yours,” he said, voice quiet as he came up behind her. She winced when he set his hand on her shoulder. “A way that would force them to not move against China in any fashion.”_

_Zhu hugged herself and turned her head away from him, saying nothing._

_“Return to your people,” he continued. “Return to them and be their queen…be my queen. If you were to marry me, my brothers would be left unable to act against you.” He brushed a bit of hair over her shoulder, fingers lightly grazing against her cheek. “As my wife, you become a part of their family. Their lives would be cursed with misfortune if they brought any harm to you.”_

_“But that won’t protect my sisters,” she said, voice quiet and shaky. “I know how strongly your brothers lust after my sisters. I saw it in their eyes the only time they met. A marriage won’t stop them from trying to find my sisters.”_

_“That may be true, but upon marrying me, a third of my father’s army—nearly five thousand men—comes under my control. And as my sisters-in-law, I would be able to lend China’s army their strength.”_

_Her brows furrowing, she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. Though China was still rebuilding its army, she knew that in the last four years, it had risen from a couple dozen soldiers to nearly ten thousand. She was partly to thank, as she had seen to the deposition of a few minor kings unwilling to cooperate with the Emperor._

_Ten thousand Chinese soldiers coupled with the supposed five thousand men Mundzuc could potentially add…_

_As if reading her thoughts, Mundzuc spoke once more. “If, perhaps, we had a child…I would gain the_ entirety _of my father’s army. Fifteen thousand men. Twenty-five thousand in total. My brothers would never be able to win against those numbers.”_

_She swallowed hard and closed her eyes. While part of her_ did _want to return to her people, she didn’t want to be Mundzuc’s wife—let alone bear his children. But if it meant keeping her family safe…_

_“I’m afraid you don’t have long to think it over,” he told her. “My brothers will want to strike soon—_ if _they strike at all. But, as you said, the lust they have for you sisters is strong.”_

_“They won’t strike in summer,” she murmured. “They’re not built for this heat. It would kill them. They’ll wait until autumn or early winter.”_

_“Midsummer has come and gone,” he reminded her. “Soon, it will be time for harvest. Not long after, the temperatures will begin dropping. And that’s not taking into account that it would take weeks for you to, not only ride here, but also for us to ride to my people and show my father and brothers proof of our marriage.” He heard her curse under her breath as he stepped in front of her. Tenderly cupping her face in his hands, he tilted her head up to look at him. “You have, at most, a week to think it over,” he told her, voice almost loving. He watched her eyes widened in horror once more. “After that, you’ll either have to begin your ride here or prepare your loved ones for a potential attack.”_

_“A—a week?! But that isn’t—that isn’t enough time!” she gasped. She didn’t notice how the tower was no longer on fire; they were standing in its charred remains. “There’s so many factors I have to take into account! There are so many different possible outcomes—I—I—” She choked out a sob as she felt her knees give out._

_Mundzuc caught her, slowly lowering her to the ground. He held her against him, stroking the back of her hair as he quietly cooed to her. She didn’t try to pull away. Instead, she let herself cry against his shoulder._

_“I know, I know,” he whispered. She couldn’t see it, but he was wearing a victorious smirk. “Life can be so unforgiving at times, can’t it?”_

_As he held her, Zhu could hear screams of terror and the clashing of metal against metal. Cannons were being fired, the force of their explosions making the tower tremble. Beyond the tower, the Imperial Palace was engulfed in flames._

_The fire began to terrify her again._

A mixture of pain in her jaw and extreme thirst woke Zhu up. She was confused; where were the fires? The screams? But then she remembered that it had all been a dream. Just a dream, she told herself, and nothing more.

‘A dream,’ she thought, sitting up and rubbing her face. Her skin was sticky from the tears she had cried in her sleep. ‘But one that gave me too much to think about…’ Remembering Mundzuc’s words, she cursed and brought her knees to her chest. ‘And I only have a week to think about _all_ of it…? But what if he’s lying? If he’s with _my_ people, then how does he know what his brothers are planning? …Then again, they are his _brothers_. He knows them well. Guessing their next moves wouldn’t be hard for him…’

She ran her fingers into her hair and gripped it in frustration. She wanted to punch something or to scream or _something_. There was so much stress building up inside her that she needed to release it somehow.

Nearly half an hour passed before she was able to calm herself enough get out of bed. Crossing her room, she opened her window and deeply breathed in the cool morning air. Outside, it wasn’t even fully light yet. Most of the sky was deep violet in color, but the eastern edges were beginning to become tinged with pink and yellow. She sighed and, turning away from the window, made to get dressed.

‘Last week, everything was fine. My sisters got to attend a festival with their lovers, I found out Umut was pregnant, and mother finally found someone who she could beat in checkers.’ She pulled off her nightgown before tugging on a pair of pants. ‘Now, all of a sudden, I’m told that there’s a strong chance that the Mongolian princes and their army are going to scour China in order to find me or my sisters! And I only have a week to think over whether I want to risk staying with my friends and family or return to my people? While not even knowing if Mundzuc was lying to me or not?!’

She cursed aloud as, in her anger, she pulled her shirt on much too hard. The seams along the shoulders ripped open and the shirt slid down her body to the floor. Grumbling, she kicked it away from her before pulling on a different shirt—quite a bit gentler this time.

Not wanting to risk waking the others up, she carefully climbed out of her window and made her way to the well. There, Zhu drank nearly half a bucket of water before splashing some on her face. The coolness of the water further helped to calm her and she sighed, relieved to be free of the tight feeling brought on by her earlier tears.

This early in the morning, the courtyard was eerily quiet. The insects had stopped making their noises, but the birds weren’t yet awake. There was a slight breeze, but it barely rustled the grass as it wafted by. Shadows were long and dark, obscuring everything in their grasp.

Letting the water bucket fall back into the well, she crossed the courtyard and quietly opened the door to the barn. Inside, it was very nearly pitch black. That didn’t matter to her; she knew the layout of the building extremely well by now.

_‘Child, it is too early for humans to be awake,’_ she heard within her mind. ‘ _What are you doing up?’_

“Mundzuc,” Zhu murmured, walking past all the stalls. “It was another shared dream.”

_‘That makes four since arriving here.’_

“Yes, but the second and third were mostly insults and fighting. This one was…” She let out a heavy sigh as she grabbed a wheelbarrow. “He told me his brothers found out my sisters have been sent into hiding.”

_‘How? Not even your sisters’ handmaidens were told where they were going!’_

“He does not know. He only knows that they found out…and they found out one other thing.” She started to wheel the barrow to the front of the barn.

Umut snorted. _‘What is that?’_

“They know I am alive.”

_‘…And that is bad…?’_ She heard Umut flick her head back, moving her forelock from her eyes.

“Do you remember those triplets I was promised to when I was around sixteen summers old?”

_‘The ones you defeated in combat one-by-one in order to_ not _marry them?’_

“Yes. Apparently, they did not take kindly to it and have been filled with a seething rage ever since then.” Walking into the storage stall, she felt along the lower part of the wall. “And, because I am alive, they will either come after me or come after my sisters.” Her fingers brushed against the smooth wood of a tool’s handle.

_‘…And you cannot protect everyone.’_

Zhu was silent for a moment. Lifting the tool from its spot, she felt its opposite end to check if it was the one she needed. “There is one way I can keep everyone safe,” she mumbled, setting the tool back down, “but…it means I would have to return to the Huns and…become Mundzuc’s bride.”

Umut let out a noise that was a mix between a snort and a squeal. _‘Child, you cannot do that! You’ve finally started to live the life you deserve—if you return there, you’ll lose everything! And how do you even know Mundzuc isn’t lying to you? He desires you just as strongly as his brothers desire your sisters!’_

“And that is the problem.” Finding the correct tool, an ax, on her second try, she went back to the barrow. “I do _not_ know if he is lying or not. If he _is_ lying, then I risk nothing by remaining here. But if he _isn’t_ lying…”

_‘Then you put your sisters at risk.’_

“Exactly.” She put the ax in the barrow before walking to Umut. Opening the stall, she walked in and wrapped her arms around the mare’s neck.

Umut felt her bury her face in her mane. _‘This is a horrible decision to make._ ’

“And I have only a week to make it. If his brothers _do_ strike, they will wait for the cooler weather to do so. That gives me barely enough time to ride to my people, marry Mundzuc, and then ride to Mongolia in order to show his family that we married…” She swallowed hard, squeezing her eyes shut to prevent any tears from falling.

She wouldn’t allow herself to cry anymore.

_‘Child…’_ Sighing, Umut lowered her head, resting it against Zhu’s back. _‘Are the gods ever going to take pity on you?’_

“Why would they?” she mumbled. “They enjoy tormenting me almost as much as Mundzuc does.”

 

~*~

 

Su yawned and rubbed her eyes as she walked into the kitchen. Normally, she would have practically skipped into her favorite room of the house. But after a night spent playing mahjong and learning card games well into the early hours, she was left exhausted.

Happy, but exhausted.

Shuffling her way across the kitchen, she crouched down in front of the stove, checking to see if any coals from the previous night were left. Finding none, she sighed and went to the clay oven to see if _it_ had any coals. Again, none.

‘Looks like we’re having a cold breakfast this morning,’ she thought, grabbing a pair of empty pots. ‘I don’t have any kindling left to make a fire and what wood _is_ left is the stuff we’re going to use to smoke meats.’

She yawned again and opened the door. Before she could take even one step outside, however, she let out a squeak and jumped backwards in surprise. She hadn’t been expecting to see Zhu standing outside the door, filling the wood box with freshly cut firewood.

“Zhu! What are you doing up!?” she half scolded, half gasped. “You’re not supposed to be up for another couple of hours!”

“I could not sleep,” Zhu replied with a shrug. Pulling a piece of wood from the wheelbarrow, she found a small groove in the top. Su jumped, her eyes widening as she watched her sisters easily tear the wood in half. “I remembered you had run out of wood last night, so I got you some more.” She put the two pieces into the wood box.

“Th-thank you,” she mumbled, eyes still wide. “How—how long have you been at this?”

Zhu paused for a moment, trying to remember. She then shrugged and grabbed another piece of wood. “Three—maybe four—hours? This is just the first bit of the wood I got. The rest will go in the barn where it can stay out of the elements.”

Su frowned; Zhu had gone to bed just as late as her. “Did you get _any_ sleep at all last night?”

“A couple of hours.” She then smiled reassuringly at her youngest sister. “I am fine, Su,” she told her. “I drank too much tea is all. Later today, I will try to take a nap so I don’t over-exhaust myself.”

“You had better!” she scolded, shaking her head. “And no more ginseng tea for you after dinner. You’re the _last_ person here who needs to be losing sleep.”

Zhu laughed, her brow rising. “You are beginning to sound like mother.” She then saw the empty pots Su held. “Would you like me to fill those for you?”

“No, no. I’ve got it. You just keep…ripping wood to shreds.” She walked past her sister and around to the front of the house to where the well was.

It took her a little while to get the buckets filled; the well’s bucket was about half the size of her pots. By the time she had gotten them both filled, Chien-Po had joined her. He easily picked up the pots and carried them back into the kitchen for her. He, too, had been surprised to see Zhu awake so early, but he was thankful that she had brought in more firewood.

“What shall we make for breakfast this morning?” he asked, setting one of the pots on the counter. The other he carried over to the hearth, hanging it off of a metal spit. “I was almost thinking we should do a simple breakfast of eggs, sausage, and rice.”

“That works,” Su smiled. “I’m still a little exhausted after last night’s games. I don’t know if I could do any heavy-duty cooking this morning.”

At that, Chien-Po frowned. “If you would like to, you can return to bed for a while,” he offered. “I can handle the breakfast on my own.”

“You’re such a sweetheart,” she said, smiling as she hugged him. “But I’ll be fine, I promise. Once I get some tea in me, I’ll wake right up.”

His cheeks turned pink, but he smiled. “Then I best get the fires started, shouldn’t I?”

She giggled. “Warm tea is just a _tiny_ bit preferable to room temperature tea.”

Within half an hour, the two had the kitchen fires burning. Su hummed to herself as she set one of her many woks into one of the stove’s two pits. While it heated up, she headed into the pantry to grab some sausages; Chien-Po had gone out back to fetch the morning eggs from the chicken coop.

‘Hm…should I cut these into rounds or cook them whole?’ she thought, looking at the rope of links. ‘If I cook them whole, then they can retain most of their moisture and be nice and juicy. But if I slice them, they can get that delicious crispiness I so love…’

Coming out of the pantry, she set the rope of meat on the counter, having decided that she would wait to hear Chien-Po’s opinion. While she waited from him to return, she added water, a tiny bit of soy sauce, and rice into the hot wok before giving it a good stir. She then covered it with a wooden lid.

“There, rice is cooking,” she murmured, hands on her hips. “Now, what else should we make? Meat, eggs, and rice is a good breakfast as is, but we should have _some_ sort of fruit or vegetable…Oh, I know!”

A wide grin spread across her face as she darted into the pantry once more. She grabbed an armful of ingredients, transferring them from the pantry to the counter. By the time Chien-Po returned ten minutes later, she was carefully measuring the components into a large, wooden bowl Ting-Ting had made her.

“Scallion pancakes?” he questioned, his head tilting ever so slightly.

An innocent smile was on her lips as she looked up at him. “I thought they would be a nice addition,” she told him. “You know—so the whole meal isn’t just heavy foods.”

He quietly laughed and shook his head. “And to think you haven’t even had your morning tea yet,” he teased.

“The water’s heating up,” she laughed. “Oh, and before I forget: Should we leave the sausages whole or should we slice them into rounds?”

“Hm.” Setting the basket of eggs on the counter, he rubbed his chin in thought. “I think, with the addition of the pancakes, it would be best to leave them whole. The pancakes can be used to soak up whatever juices they leave behind.”

“Ooh, that’s true,” she grinned. “I hadn’t thought of that. The sausages remain whole, then!”

Chien-Po chuckled, grabbing a shallow wok from the stack. He set it in the second stove pit. Using a small, but sharp, knife, he began to cut the bits of casing that linked the sausages together. It didn’t take him long to do and he went to fetch a bit of oil from the pantry.

“How should we do the eggs?” he asked Su, hearing her beginning to stir the pancake batter together. “At first, I thought fried, but that could be rather tedious for a tired morning.” He drizzled the oil around the edges of the wok, watching as it began to shimmer as it slid down to the bottom.

“We could hard-boil most of them,” she suggested, “and fry some up for Zhu.” She barely jumped when the loud sizzling of the sausages entering the wok began. “Ooh, _or_ we could poach them! I haven’t had a poached egg in _forever_.”

“Poached eggs sound _wonderful_ ,” he agreed, smiling. Using a metal spatula, he pushed the bunch of sausages around a little bit before leaving them to cook on the first side. “Does Zhu like them? Or should we still fry her up a few?”

His question made Su pause in her mixing as she realized something. “You know, I _don’t_ know if she likes them or not. I don’t think she was ever around when we had them back home.”

“I shall fry some eggs as well, then. Just to be safe.”

She giggled. “Good plan.”

Chien-Po was started to remove the now-cooked sausages from the wok when the two heard a bit of a commotion outside. They exchanged confused looks and Chien-Po started for the door. Before he could reach it, though, it flew open.

“I _don’t_ care that you couldn’t see them!” Ling harshly scolded. He had a hold of Zhu’s arm, practically dragging her into the house. “You should have known something was wrong when your hands started to hurt!”

“I _told_ you, they were not hurting until I actually saw them!” Zhu argued. “I was too focused on my work to notice!”

“Then you need to focus a little less on your work and pay a little more attention to yourself!” he snapped, forcing her to sit on a stool. It groaned over the sudden addition of her weight.

“What is going on!?” Chien-Po and Su chorused. Ling had never acted so harshly before— _especially_ towards Zhu.

Zhu started talking first. “I may have gotten a few slivers when I was stacking wood in the barn,” she answered.

“A few?! _A few_?!” Ling motioned at her hands. “You call dozens of cuts and bits of wood sticking out of your blood-covered palms a _few splinters_!?”

Zhu’s cheeks turned deep red and she avoided looking at Su, who cursed and ran over. Though she tried to keep her palms hidden between her thighs, it was a useless endeavor; as Ling had pointed out, they were covered in blood. So much so that it was beginning to drip onto the floor.

“Oh my gods, Zhu,” she gawked, covering her mouth. Grabbing Zhu’s wrists, she pulled her hands out of hiding. “How--?! How could you not notice this!? Oh gods, Chien-Po, get the rose water, lavender, and the yarrow. I need to fetch some tweezers and bandages…” Before she had finished speaking, Chien-Po had already disappeared into the pantry.

“If you get them, I’ll work on her hands so you can finish breakfast,” Ling told her. His voice still had a bit of a harsh edge on it. Shaking his head, he plopped down and, taking Zhu’s right wrist, carefully started to remove some of the bigger splinters.

Soon enough, Su returned with the bandages and tweezers and Chien-Po had brought over a bowl of warm water, a washcloth, and a trio of bottles. Ling thanked them and took the cloth, dipping it into the water. After wringing it out, he gently placed it over Zhu’s palm. She clenched her eyes shut and inhaled sharply but said nothing.

Once most of the blood was removed, Ling could better see the extent of the damage—and, thankfully, it wasn’t as bad as he had originally thought. Most of the blood came from a pair of cuts at the base of her thumb. She still had dozens of splinters, however, with many of them being tiny and hard to see.

“Too focused to notice the pain,” Ling grumbled about six sliver-removals later. “Too focused my _ass._ I don’t know _anyone_ who would be too focused to ignore pain!”

Zhu couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Instead, she kept her eyes fixed on the small pool of blood that had formed on the ground. Not only was she ashamed of her ignorance towards her injuries, but she was also hurt. Ling was _never_ like this. Yao and Chien-Po had once told her they had never heard Ling yell in anger and yet, just ten minutes ago, he had been yelling at her in the barn for her foolishness.

“I am sorry,” she mumbled. “I’m too used to ignoring pain and continuing on with whatever I was doing.”

“Well, you need to _stop_ ignoring the pain and actually pay attention to it,” he retorted. He didn’t see the look of concern on Su’s face as she glanced over at them. “Otherwise, one of these days, you’re going to ‘ignore’ the pain to a point where you end up dead because you bled out or because the wound got infected.”

She swallowed a little harder than normal. “I would not do that.”

“Oh? Tell that to the dozen logs stacked in the barn that have bloody handprints all over them!”

“It’s not something I can easily unlearn, Ling! I’m a _Hun_ ; I was taught—”

“You’re _not_ a Hun anymore!” he snapped, suddenly pointing the tweezers at her face.

Zhu flinched hard enough that her hand yanked out of his.

Guilt was suddenly added to the anger and worry Ling felt. He sighed and, gently, pulled her hand back to him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he told her, voice quiet.

She said nothing.

“But what I said is true,” he continued. By now, he had amassed a small pile of various-sized splinters on his knee—and that was just from one hand. “You’re _not_ a Hun anymore. You’re one of us. You _don’t_ have to be the tough guy anymore.”

Wincing as a particularly deep splinter was removed, she closed her eyes. “I know.”

“Not well enough, obviously.” Finally removing the last sliver from that hand, he wiped off the droplets of blood that formed before taking her left hand.

The two remained silent as he continued on with the splinter removal. Su and Chien-Po made a bit a noise as they went about making breakfast, though they didn’t talk much either. That is, until breakfast was nearly done.

“Zhu?” Su asked, her voice quiet.

She looked up; Su hated how exhausted and hurt she looked. It made her look weak, she thought. That was the _last_ thing she ever wanted to think about her big sister.

“Do you like poached eggs?”

“I do.” She wanted to let Su know she wasn’t feeling very hungry right now; her stomach was twisting and churning thanks to her emotions. Not wanting to get yelled at again, though, she kept quiet.

“And Ling, you like them, too, correct?” Chien-Po asked. “It has been so long since we’ve had them, I cannot remember.”

Sighing as he removed the final splinter, Ling grabbed the wet cloth once again. “Poached is my favorite way to eat eggs,” he answered, carefully wiping away the blood once more. He then brought both of Zhu’s hands towards him and opened one of the bottles. Almost instantly, the air was perfumed with the scent of roses. “The only way I _don’t_ like them is raw.” Pouring some rose water into both of her palms, he used it to rinse away whatever blood and dirt remained.

Su stuck her tongue out in disgust. “Ew, who eats raw eggs?!”

“Sometimes, in wet weather, we would eat raw quail eggs when we found them,” Zhu said. She watched as Ling poured a bit of the lavender and yarrow oils into her palms. “But that was only if we were on missions.” As he began massaging the oils into her hands, all the little pinpricks and cuts started to sting horribly, making her cringe.

“Gross! How did you not gag?!”

Her brow rose. “It was easy. Quail eggs are incredibly tiny—about the size of your nose. You just carefully cut open the top of the egg and dump it into the back of your mouth.”

“Still gross,” Su murmured, shaking her head. Removing the lid from the wok of rice, she used a large, wooden spoon to stir the rice around. She found that the rice was cooked to perfection; as such, she began scooping it from the wok into a large serving bowl. She was careful to get as many of the grains out as possible so Chien-Po could have a clean wok for poaching the eggs in.

Zhu resisted the urge to pull her hands away as the stinging only grew worse. ‘At least the pain lets me know it’s working,’ she thought. ‘Don’t need them to get infected and me not notice…’

When the oil was sufficiently rubbed in, Ling began to bandage her hands. “Your fingers didn’t get too bad,” he told her, “so I’m not going to bandage them.” There was still an edge of sharpness to his voice as he spoke to her. “But your palms are a different story. The oils should help them heal up pretty fast, though.”

She nodded, watching him tie the last bit of cloth into place. “Thank you.” When he was done, she slowly closed and opened her hand, making sure the bandages weren’t too tight.

He only grunted, shoving the pile of slivers into the bowl of dirtied water and getting up. He went outside to dispose of the water.

Rubbing the back of her neck, Zhu looked over at Su and Chien-Po. “…Is it alright if I eat later?” she asked quietly. “I feel rather drained after all—after all that.”

“Of course,” Su told her. “We’ll be sure to save you some.”

“Thank you.” Standing up, she left the room before Ling could return.

Chien-Po sighed, wiping his forehead on his sleeve. “That…was not a pleasant way to start the day,” he said.

“No, it wasn’t,” Su agreed. “I didn’t think Ling was capable of being _that_ angry.”

“It’s because she _always_ does this.” Both looked at the door as Ling came back in. “She’s always getting herself hurt and shrugging it off like it’s no big deal—but it _is_!” He snatched up the bottles, tucking them into his arm. “Even back at Moo-Shung she did it. Remember, Chien-Po? When Tingfei broke her ribs that had _just_ finished healing from a previous break?”

He nodded. “I do remember. But, she had a logical reason to avoid the healer then!”

“What about those days when she worked herself to exhaustion? Or how she let herself get _blown up_? Or when she ran off with ten bandits chasing her!?” He quietly growled and ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up. “That’s not even counting what sort of things she did while we thought she was still dead! At the rate she’s going, she’s going to get herself killed again and no magical djinn horse will be able to bring her back!”

Su suddenly slammed her spoon down, making the two men jump. Turning around, she pointed up at Ling scoldingly. “Listen, Ling: I get it. You’re worried about Zhu. It’s perfectly fine to be worried about her; she’s an _assassin_ for the gods’ sake! It’s impossible _not_ to worry about her!

She then put her hands on her hips, continuing to glare up at him in a surprisingly maternal fashion. “But that isn’t a reason to yell at her like you did,” she continued. “Yes, it’s frustrating at times how she ignores the pain she’s going through. But what she told you is right: It’s _not_ something she can easily unlearn. She spent twenty-seven years living under Shan Yu’s rule, being raised to become his _heir_. Do you think she can unlearn all of that in just four years!?”

Ling tried to come up with a reply, but he was too frightened by how stern Su was being to formulate a coherent sentence.

“Zhu is trying _so_ hard to be like us and she has come _so_ far from the cold-hearted killer I heard about four years ago.” She snatched the bottles from him. “And you know _who_ made her want to be a better person? _You_. You were the first one she met, after all.” She disappeared into the pantry to put the bottles away.

By now, guilt had entirely replaced his anger and worry. Looking away from Su, he rubbed his arm. He knew she was right; he _shouldn’t_ have yelled at Zhu. Or been so harsh with her when she tried to apologize, even _after_ seeing how bad he had made her flinch.

“I’ll apologize to her later,” he murmured, voice filled with shame. “I’ll…I’ll let her have some time to herself first.”

Chien-Po nodded in understanding. “You left her fairly shaken, so waiting a while is a good plan.”

“I didn’t—” He closed his eyes and rubbed his face in frustration. “I wasn’t thinking. Well, I was, but I wasn’t thinking the right things.” He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Chien-Po’s stomach and letting his arms dangly limply. “I’m an awful person.”

Patting him on the shoulder with one hand, Chien-Po handed him a rag with the other; this one was only slightly damp. “The fact that you realize what you did was wrong proves otherwise,” he assured him. “Now, finish cleaning up, have some breakfast, and then take a little time to meditate. I know you’re not the best at meditating, but it will at least be some time for you to come up with an apology.”

Ling merely nodded, grabbing the cloth and going to wipe up the blood from the floor. He was a bit surprised by how much there was; but then again, her hands had continued to bleed while he was removing the splinters. Regardless, the size of the puddle was a bit alarming and he was now left wondering if Zhu had enough blood in her to stay alive.

 

Nearly an hour later found him returning to his room; he walked as quietly as he could, not wanting to disturb Zhu if she had managed to fall asleep. Breakfast had been a bit awkward, what with Su being upset and him having bloodstains on his tunic. Things didn’t get better when he explained what had happened. Halfway through the meal, he excused himself, feeling too antsy to eat more than half an egg and a few bites of sausage.

He let out a heavy sigh as he flopped down on his bed, arms spread out and eyes shut. Though he knew meditating was meant to be done in a sitting position, he preferred to do it laying down—that way, if he fell asleep, he wouldn’t fall over.

‘How do I even tell her I’m sorry?’ he asked himself. ‘I mean, I outright _yelled_ at her and scared her. _I_ _scared Zhu_. She’s looked death in the eye and didn’t flinch as bad as I made her flinch…’

Another sigh left his mouth and he rolled onto his side, facing the wall. ‘I know she didn’t mean to let her hands get like that, but at the same time, I’m just so tired of her always getting hurt! Whether it’s to protect someone or by accident, it needs to stop.’

He grabbed a pillow and pulled it against his chest. As he inhaled, he couldn’t help but smile slightly; even after a week, the pillow still smelled of Ting-Ting’s perfume.

And then he frowned again.

Ting-Ting hadn’t been at all pleased to hear about what had happened. The look she gave him, in fact, reminded him of the glares Zhu would often give to people she hated and it had remained on her face until he had excused himself.

‘They are full-blood sisters, though,’ he reminded himself. ‘Of course they’re going to look similar…It must be something they get from their dad’s side.’ His brows furrowed. ‘Which would make it a Hun trait—No, Ling. Don’t start thinking like that. Yeah, their dad was a Hun, but that doesn’t make them more than half Hun.’ A heavy sigh left his mouth. ‘But they’re still Huns…And Su’s right. Zhu _is_ trying really hard to fit in with Chinese society. I shouldn’t be upset with her for having an occasional slip up, even _if_ it results in her getting hurt.’

Still hugging onto the pillow, he sat up and looked towards his window. His brow rose when he noticed that, on the windowsill, there were a few paint brushes laying on their side beside a cup of water.

“I knew that cup was too shallow,” he murmured. Leaving the pillow behind, walked over to the window and picked up the brushes. He dipped them in the water before carefully reshaping the bristles into a fine point. Then, handle-first, he stuck them into another, taller cup that held a few more brushes. “Can’t afford to let those brushes get ruined…cost me a pretty yen to get some that wouldn’t fall apart after three uses.”

Ling’s eyes suddenly widened as an idea came to him. “I know how to apologize to her!” he murmured with a grin.

Going over to his shelf, he carefully pushed some loose pages of paper off of a long, wooden box. He opened it and pulled out the stack of papers it contained, carefully going through each one. Each sheet was filled with rough, messy sketches of each of his friends. One sketch on each page had been circled.

Halfway through the stack, he came across the page that was dedicated Zhu, he scrutinized it. Unlike the other pages, hers only had three sketches of her and none of them had gotten past the gesture drawing. Once more, he was filled with guilt; the page before hers—Ting-Ting’s—had been _crammed_ with sketches.

‘Well, I’ll fix that today,’ he thought, putting the rest of the sketches back into the box. He grabbed a second box, this one longer and thinner, and went to sit on his bed. Before opening the second box, he stretched his hands and wrists a bit. ‘Hopefully it’ll be a good apology…’

 

~

 

Zhu, having actually managed to fall asleep and take a nap, woke up near noon. At first, she couldn’t remember why she was back in bed. As soon as she made to rub her eyes, however, she quickly remembered what had transpired earlier.

Her hands were _aching_.

‘My own fault,’ she thought, sitting up. Yawning, she used the heel of her palm to rub her eye. ‘I should have paid more attention…’ Throwing her legs over the side of her bed, she brought her braid over her shoulder only to find that it had unraveled halfway while she slept. She sighed and grabbed her comb from the bedside table before unraveling the rest of the braid.

She had just finished combing her hair and was getting ready to part it when there was a knock at her door. Her brow rose ever so slightly and she got to her feet, heading for the door. She opened the door only to feel her stomach drop.

Ling stood on the other side, his face and shirt covered in colorful powders. “Hey,” he said, guilt on his face.

“Hello,” she murmured, avoiding his gaze.

He rubbed his arm. “I, uh…wanted to apologize to you. For earlier. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. Or yelled at all.”

“I was being an idiot. I deserved it.”

“No, you weren’t and no you didn’t. _I_ was the idiot.” He sighed. “Or rather, I was the _impatient_ idiot.”

Zhu cocked a brow. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean I forgot how hard it must be for you to adjust to this new life.” Pausing a minute, he took a few, calming breaths. “You were right when you said you were a Hun, Zhu. You _are_ a Hun. And you were raised as one. But now, you’re trying your damnedest to be more like your Chinese half…which, until now, I didn’t think would be such a hard thing for you to do since you’re—well, _you_. But you reminded me that it _isn’t_ something that can’t be done with just a snap of your fingers.”

She rubbed the back of her neck and finally looked at him; she saw that he kept one arm tucked behind him while the other rubbed its bicep. “It is really hard,” she said, voice quiet. “And, lately, it seems to be even more so…”

He frowned; he didn’t like the sound of that. “Why is that?”

She looked away from him once more. “Just—trying to keep track of everyone and making sure they are safe and happy,” she lied. “On top of the arguments I have been having with mother…” Shaking her head, she sighed. “That’s why I was so lost in thought earlier. I was thinking about all of that and then some. And I _know_ I can ask for help from you all, but—but it’s hard. _Extremely_ hard. It is not how I was raised.”

“Hey.” Ling reached over and gently made her look at him. “So long as you try, that’s all that matters. You got that?” As he spoke, he wore a reassuring smile and there was a sort of softness in his eyes. Her insides started to feel like they were melting; never before had she seen a man wear that sort of expression.

She now knew what she found attractive in a man.

“You’re our friend,” he continued, “and we’ll always be here for you. _Always_.” He gave her a one-armed hug, lightly squeezing her. “Remember to tell yourself that when you’re struggling, alright? It may make asking for help easier for you.

“Thank you,” she told him, returning the hug. She was more than thankful that he was no longer mad at her; she didn’t know what she would have done if he had ended up hating her. Crush or not, Ling was still one of her best friends and she didn’t want to lose that friendship. Though, she found herself having to resist the urge to keep holding onto him when he started to let go.

“You’re welcome,” he smiled. His eyes then widened. “Oh, before I forget: I, ah…made you a present as part of my apology.”

Zhu cocked her head. “A…present? Is it the reason you are covered in paint?”

A wide, cheeky grin came to his lips as he nodded. “Yep! Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

“Uh-oh. Now I am scared.” She chuckled and she did as instructed. A few seconds passed before she felt a thick sheet of paper being place in her hands.

“Now you can look,” Ling chirped.

Opening her eyes, she looked down in her hands. She found herself holding a painting—and a beautifully done one at that. It showed two women standing back-to-back. Though the women were identical, the one on the right was smiling and wore a familiar, soft pink dress and blue shawl. The woman on the left, however, looked more solemn in her black and blood-red armor.

“Is…is this _me_?” she asked, eyes wide and cheeks beginning to burn.

“Yeah.” He came to stand beside her, pointing at the right Zhu. “This represents your Chinese half,” he explained, “and how you’re at your happiest when with your friends and family. And this—” he pointed at the left Zhu, “—represents your Hunnic half. You’re more serious and you’re ready to fight to protect your loved ones. But see how, in the middle here, they’re connected?” He showed her how the two Zhus’ hair and shoulders formed a sort of heart-shape. “That’s because even though they’re so different from one another, they’re still two halves of a whole.”

Zhu continued to stare at the painting, awed by it. “And… _you_ really painted this?” She didn’t know Ling could paint, let alone put such meaning into a painting.

He chuckled. “Yeah…I like drawing and painting, but I don’t really have much time or money for it.” He rubbed his arm, a bit nervous by her quietness. “So…ah…do you like it?”

“Of course I do! It is gorgeous!” She then pointed at both of the Zhus foreheads, where tiny lines made up the fine, stubborn hairs that refused to be tamed. “You even remembered to add in these wispy bits!” she said, smiling. She didn’t want to tell him that she thought he had made her too pretty; even she knew better than to criticize gifts. “I will definitely be hanging this on my wall.”

A bit of a relieved look came to his face. “Make sure you don’t hang it too close to your paper talisman,” he joked. He then motioned at her barren walls. “Wouldn’t want your walls to look too crowded.”

Her brow rose and she rolled her eyes, smiling. “Ha, ha.”

 

 


	22. 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter left after this, so I have a question for ya'll! There is a 2-chapter interlude that takes place between Daughter of Rebirth and the final part of the trilogy. Would you rather I   
> 1) upload them as their own story   
> 2) add them into the end of DoR or   
> 3) have them be the starting 2 chapters of the next story?

Three days were left.

Zhu was determined to not think about her impending decision that day. She wanted—no, _needed_ —a break from her thoughts. In order to keep her head clear, however, she would have to stay busy after her usual chore of cleaning the stables.

But there was one, little problem: No one needed help.

“Oh, I’m doing just fine,” Mei had told her when she went to check on her. “Just doing a bit of embroidery and pinning today. Thank you, though!”

Next, she had tried Su. “Ah, sorry, Zhu!” she had said, wearing an apologetic smile. “Chien-Po and I have everything covered.”

She then went to go see if her mother needed anything. “Oh, I’m sorry, little one. Fa Li, Grandmother Fa, and I are going to be in town most of the day. Would you like me to get you anything while we’re out, though?”

After requesting a new whetstone (Su had stolen hers) and, possibly, a bottle or two of plum wine, she went out to the fields where she knew Yao would be.

“Sorry, kid,” he panted, wiping the sweat from his brow. “I’m almost done with the weedin’ an’ unless you’d want t’ chase crows away, there ain’t anythin’ I’ve got for ya t’ do. Nice o’ ya to offer, though.”

Climbing back up the hill, Zhu was beginning to feel disheartened about her search. She headed for the barn where Ting-Ting was doing some woodcarving. Surely _she_ would need some sort of help…?

As she neared the door, however, she could hear laughter inside. Her brow rising, she steeled herself for the possibility of catching Ting-Ting and Ling holding on to one another. She found no such thing, however, and instead found Ting-Ting covered in wood shavings as she chiseled away at a wide block of wood. Mulan sat on the bench to her left and Ling stood on her right, both watching as she worked. All three, however, looked up as she entered, surprised to see her.

“Zhu!” Mulan smiled. “I was just about to come looking for you!”

She cocked her head. “…You were?”

“Yes. I was wondering if you’re doing anything today?”

“I am actually _trying_ to find something to do,” she replied, leaning against a post. “Why?”

“She needs our help harvesting fruit from her family’s orchard,” Ling answered. “Besides Chien-Po, we’re the tallest ones, so we’d be able to reach the fruits she _can’t_.”

A small laugh left her mouth. “That makes sense. Sure, I can help. What kind of fruit will we be harvesting?”

“Plums and apricots,” Mulan answered, hopping off the bench. She brushed any stray bits of dust or shavings from her hindquarters. “And you’re free to eat as many as you’d like.”

“Are you sure it was smart telling us that?” Zhu questioned, amused. “You know that, between the two of us, Ling and I could eat the entire crop?” She looked away from Ting-Ting as Ling kissed her goodbye, feigning an itch on her calf. Standing up once again, she waved at her sister before starting to walk alongside Mulan as they left.

“Oh, you wouldn’t want to eat all the plums,” Mulan replied, a wry grin on her lips. “They’re bought by the folks who make the plum wine you so love.”

Hearing that, a skeptical look came to Ling’s face. “You like plum wine, Zhu? I thought you didn’t like drinking?”

Her cheeks turned bright red. “I…may have discovered a fondness for plum wine,” she murmured. She could see a wide, teasing grin beginning to spread its way across Ling’s face. “What!? It is _far_ better tasting than whatever wine was being served at that brothel!”

“Hey, that brothel wine was _good_ ,” Ling retorted, feigning an offended tone.

Mulan looked horrified. “Wait, you took her to a _brothel_?!” she gasped. “When!?”

“Oh, don’t worry.” He gave a casual wave of his hand. “It was the night before she went off on her errand. And, _no_ , none of us partook in the brothel services.”

Zhu smiled at the memory of how drunk he and Yao had been that night. “He and Yao brought me to the brothel district so I could win them some money by wrestling.”

Mulan slowly shook her head, sighing in the way a disappointed parent would. “Please tell me you didn’t—you know what? Never mind. I don’t want to know.” She opened the door to her family’s barn. It was much smaller than the one they had just left, but it didn’t need to be big. Khan was its only living resident.

“He and Yao only drank and played Liar’s Dice,” Zhu assured her. “I had to carry them home.”

Ling’s face turned bright red. “Er…I don’t remember _that_ part…”

“I remember it quite well—especially how adorable the two of you were when you began gushing about my sisters.” She helped Mulan tilt a large cart down onto its wheels.

Mulan giggled. “I bet they were adorable,” she said. Zhu glanced at her; something about her voice didn’t sound quite right. “They turn into excited puppies around your sisters when they’re sober—while drunk, it must have been even funnier to see!”

“It was,” she smiled. “Though, Yao is _ridiculously_ foul-mouthed when drunk.” She brought down a ladder from the wall, tucking it under her arm.

“If you thought _that_ was bad,” Ling said, grabbing a stack of baskets Mulan pointed at, “then you wouldn’t want to hear what he sounded like _before_ Moo-Shung.” Shaking his head, he chuckled and set the baskets in the cart. “He was _bad_.” He went over and retrieved three more stacks of baskets, also adding them to the cart.

Grabbing the handles of the cart, Zhu started to pull it, but was stopped by Mulan. “Zhu, Khan is perfectly capable of pulling the cart.”

“Yes, but do you see Khan in here?” She laughed as Mulan pouted. “Don’t worry. This is light for me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” She followed behind Mulan and Ling as they left the barn and headed to the back of the Fa family property.

Ling put his hands behind his head as he walked. “So, how did you find out you liked plum wine?”

“She got drunk during the Qixi festival,” Mulan giggled. “Now _that_ was adorable. She’s very clingy when drunk.”

“That’s what she told me and Yao!” he chuckled.

Zhu’s face was turning red. “And it is one of the reasons I do not often get drunk…” she murmured. “I know how annoying I can be when drunk…”

Looking over her shoulder, Mulan gave her a reassuring smile. “You weren’t the least bit annoying,” she promised. “You were very sweet!”

“Sweet?” Ling repeated. “How? Because she was drunk on plums?” He chuckled, stepping sideways to avoid a playful nudge from Mulan. “But, seriously: What made drunken Zhu sweeter than normal Zhu?”

“She began to feel depressed about Shang not being able to be here,” Zhu answered, her voice a bit on the quiet side, “and she began questioning if she should continue holding out for him or if she should just give up and settle for someone else.” She shifted her grip on the cart slightly and looked at the ground; her insides were beginning to knot up. “But I told her that she should not settle because Shang knows how special she is and, even though he has to be away from her, he is not about to let some mediocre man take her for his bride.”

Ling glanced over at Mulan, frowning slightly. It grew in size when he saw her red cheeks and how she was avoiding looking at him. “It’s true, though,” he agreed. “Shang _does_ know how special you are, Mulan. He’ll come back for you, most definitely.”

A half-hearted smile came to her lips as she glanced over at him. “Thanks.”

He lightly nudged her. “Just sayin’ the truth.”

“I do remember _one_ question Mulan didn’t answer that night,” Zhu suddenly said, trying to steer the conversation away from love.

“I didn’t answer something?” She looked over her shoulder, confused. “I don’t even remember you asking a question…”

“You never told me what a dynasty is or how long one lasts.”

“Oh, _that!”_ Mulan burst into giggles. “Of all things to remember, you remember _that_?” She glanced up as they suddenly found themselves walking in the shade of fruit trees.

Zhu shrugged. “I remember many things from that night. But, to be completely honest: I do not know what or how long a dynasty is.”

Ling theatrically cleared his throat. “A dynasty,” he began, trying to sound as pompously educated as possible, “is the span of time a single family rules over a country. For example: The Qin Dynasty is the first recorded dynasty in China’s history and it was succeeded by the Han Dynasty.”

“Interesting,” Zhu murmured. “Which dynasty are we in now?”

Mulan chuckled. “We’re in the—” She was suddenly interrupted by the sound of approaching barking. “Little Brother?!”

Just a few seconds later and the trio saw the dog running towards them. His tongue hung out of his mouth and, as he ran, his ears billowed behind him.

Zhu grinned broadly, dropping the cart handles as she crouched down. “Come here, you silly thing!” she laughed, holding her arms out.

When he was about five feet away, Little Brother took a flying leap. Zhu easily caught him, though she fell back on her hindquarters, having lost her balance. She didn’t mind; she was currently under assault by puppy kisses.

Ling’s brow slowly rose. He had never seen Zhu act like this around animals before; it was almost weird to behold. “It’s a shame your dog doesn’t like her,” he said with a bit of sarcasm and a laugh.

“Isn’t it? He tries _so_ hard to get her to notice him,” Mulan laughed.

“Huh? What do you mean?” Zhu asked, rubbing Little Brother’s belly by now. “I adore—oh. You were joking.” She pouted when Mulan took her dog back, letting her stand up.

Giving Little Brother a good scratch behind the ears, Mulan chuckled again. “Now, Little Brother, how did you manage to get out of the garden? I _know_ I closed the gate.”

Little Brother, however, just looked at her dumbly—not that she really expected him to give her any sort of response. He was, after all, a dog.

“Maybe he heard we’d be picking fruit and wanted to help?” Ling joked. “Does he know fetch? If so, we could pretend to throw fruit and he can go pick up the ones from the ground!”

Both women laughed. “I’m afraid he isn’t quite _that_ smart,” Mulan told him.

“I think he just wanted some company,” Zhu stated. She reached over, rubbing the top of Little Brother’s head. “Or maybe he did not want Ling to feel outnumbered by us two women.”

Now it was Ling’s turn to laugh. “Even _if_ I felt outnumbered, I don’t think he’d be much help. He’s more…” He tilted his head and thoughtfully tapped his chin, making a ‘hmm’ sound.

“More adorable and cuddly than any man ever could be?” Mulan teased.

“I _was_ going to say ‘more dog and less man’,” Ling chuckled, “but I guess that works, too.” He then put his hands on his hips and looked at the trees around them. Most of them had boughs that drooped under the weight of their fruit. “So, where do we start?”

Setting Little Brother down, Mulan brushed the dog hair from her tunic. “I like to start at the back and work my way forward,” she answered. “And we have more plum trees than apricot, so I like to start with those to ensure I have enough baskets.”

Zhu pulled a stack of baskets out and set them on the ground. “How do we tell the ripe apricots from the unripe ones?”

“I’ll show you.” Going over to one of the trees, Mulan inspected its lowest branches for a ripe fruit. She hopped up, grabbing one and removing an apricot. A squeak left her mouth and she darted out of the way before she could be hit by the fruit that went flying as the branch shot upwards. “You saw _nothing_ ,” she jokingly threatened to Ling and Zhu. Both were laughing heartily.

“I have not the faintest idea of what you are speaking of,” Zhu grinned. It grew larger as Mulan gave her a small, playful shove.

“Now, pay attention,” she chuckled. “See how this is a deep orangish gold it is? That’s what you want. Also, give it a feel.” She handed it to Zhu. “See how it’s firm, but it has just a _bit_ of give? That’s a perfect apricot. And…as you no doubt noticed, the riper ones tend to come off the tree quite easily.”

Ling took the fruit from Zhu. “Or, an easier way to tell.” He took a bite from it. “Yep,” he said, chewing. “That’s a good apricot!”

Mulan closed her eyes; despite her exasperated expression, she was quietly giggling. “That _is_ one way to check, but it’s usually frowned upon because it ruins the crop.”

“I _did_ warn you that Ling and I could possibly eat the whole crop,” Zhu chuckled, lifting the topmost basket out of the one next in line. “Ling is just getting a head start.”

He said nothing as he continued to eat the apricot. He did, however, wear quite the cheeky grin—that is, until Mulan removed a basket from the stack and tossed it over his head. Pouting, he lifted the basket from his head only to find Mulan wandering off with the ladder, Zhu beside her. His eyes then widened as an idea came to him.

“Hey, guys?” He hurried to catch up to them. “I just got an idea.”

The two women looked over their shoulders at him. “Oh?”

“Why don’t we make a little game out of this?”

Zhu’s brow rose. “A game?” she questioned, her tone betraying a bit of her skepticism.

“Yeah!” he smiled, nodding. “A game! First one to fill three baskets or something like that.”

Mulan chuckled. “And what would the prize be?”

He shrugged. “Maybe an extra-long break later? Or maybe they wouldn’t have to carry their baskets back to the cart; the losers would.”

“I like the break idea better,” Zhu shrugged. “It would be less strenuous on two of us.”

“To be fair,” Mulan smiled, “if _you_ were carrying the baskets, it wouldn’t be that strenuous, Miss Strong-as-an-ox.”

“Excuse _you_ ,” Ling said in a feigned hoity-toity voice. “She’s Miss Strong-as _-two_ -oxen, thank you very much.” He glanced over his shoulder, finding that Little Brother was toddling along behind them.

Sighing, Zhu shook her head and crossed her arms. “You are both wrong. I am Miss Strong-as- _two_ -oxen- _and-a-small-horse_.” She hoped her jest came across as humor instead of seriousness.

And, it did. Mulan and Ling stared at her for a few seconds, surprised. But they soon started to laugh, earning a relieved sigh from her.

“You’re getting better at joining in with jokes,” Ling told her as he patted her on the back. “Soon, you’ll be telling jokes as often as me and Ting-Ting!”

“Now _that_ I highly doubt.” She raised her arms over her head, stretching out her back and shoulders. “Will we be racing to fill three baskets? Or would two be better?”

“Three works fine for me,” Mulan said. She pulled her hair over her shoulder, making quick work of twisting it into a braid. “They’re moderately sized baskets, so it shouldn’t take too much work to fill them up.”

Ling nodded in agreement. “Three sounds good to me, too. Like Mulan said, the baskets aren’t too big.”

Zhu nodded, straightening out her tunic. “Sounds good to me.”

The three of them returned to the cart, each grabbing as many baskets as they needed to make a total of three. Then, they went to the first three apricot trees in the row, placing their baskets around the trunk. After Mulan placed the ladder _safely_ against her tree, Ling started to count down from three. The second ‘one’ left his mouth, they began picking.

“Remember to set them in gently,” Mulan chirped about five minutes in. “Don’t want to bruise the fruit, after all.”

“ _Now_ she tells us,” Ling faux groaned. “I’ve been throwing them over my shoulder the whole time!”

Zhu snorted. “Are apricots not called stone fruits? Shouldn’t that mean they are as hard as rocks and can take a little throwing around?”

“And her sass has returned,” Mulan giggled. From her spot on the ladder, she glanced over at her friends. Or, rather, she _tried_ to glance at them. Ling was nowhere to be seen, but his tree was rustling about—he had climbed up into it. Zhu was only slightly visible, the trunk of her tree partially hiding her. “Though, I don’t think I’ve ever heard it used in such a teasing fashion.”

“Neither of you are my _beloved_ uncle,” she replied. “You do not bring about that sort of attitude.” As she made her way around the base of the tree, she began to realize that most of its ripe fruit was hidden higher up in the branches. She knew she would have to climb up, but at the same time, she also knew the higher she was, the more likely the fruit was to bruise when she dropped it into the baskets. “Now, that ‘Great Duyi’, on the other hand…”

Mulan’s brow rose. “‘Great Duyi’?” she repeated. “I know of a Duyi, but not a _Great_ Duyi.” Peeking down at her basket, she saw Little Brother with his paws on its rim as he tried to sniff its contents. It was too empty still for him to get close enough, however.

“Probably the same jerk,” Ling told her. He spat slightly when a leaf tried to get in his mouth. “Big, huge guy who makes Zhu look like tiny if they stood next to each other?”

“Yes?”

“Yeah, same guy.” He chuckled, shaking his head as he remembered how soundly Zhu had defeated him. “Zhu kicked his ass when they wrestled. And she wasn’t even using her full strength against him!”

“You could tell I was not using my full strength?” Zhu questioned, her brow rising. She had managed to take her shirt off without having to remove her tunic. Tying one sleeve to one of the basket’s handles, she then lifted it up and threw the shirt over a sturdy branch before tying the other sleeve to the other handle.

“Of course I could!” He hopped out of his tree, having used the stomach of his shirt as a cradle for nearly two dozen apricots. “If you _had_ been using your full strength, you would have tossed him all the way across Tianshui!” Kneeling town, he let the apricots roll from his shirt into the basket.

Mulan used a similar method as Ling, though she had to be careful as she came down the ladder. “Well, that _definitely_ does sound like the Duyi I know. I wasn’t aware he had begun wrestling, though. Is he any good?”

“Hard to tell,” Zhu grunted, pulling herself up into the tree. She took great care to stay only on the strongest branches. “He overpowered nearly everyone, so even _if_ he had skill, he did not need it. The cocky ass…”

“My father hired him one summer to help with the orchard harvest,” Mulan explained. “He fired him after two days and only gave him half-pay because of how lazy and insolent he was.” Shaking her head, she let out a heavy sigh. “Duyi tried to hit my father out of anger at being fired _and_ not being paid well.” She heard the other two swear in horror. “But, my father, even with his injury, was faster than him. Duyi walked out of here with _no_ pay and a giant, red mark across his face from my father’s cane.”

“Ha!” Zhu cackled. “Serves him right—not only disrespecting his elders, but also attacking them? Now I regret _not_ throwing him across Tianshui!” As she accidentally jostled an overripened apricot from its stem, she heard a small, startled ‘yip’ come from Little Brother. It hadn’t hit him, though it did come close.

“There’s still time,” Ling grinned, climbing back into the tree. “I’m sure he’s just _itching_ for a rematch against you! What better time to chuck him than during a rematch?”

She snorted. “I do not think that would be the best of ideas,” she admitted. “As much as I do want to hurl him far, far away, I do not think it would best to have a rematch. He may try to take his anger out on the spectators. Or, worse: He may find out that I’m a woman.”

Mulan’s brow rose. “He…didn’t know you were a woman?” she asked, moving her ladder and basket to a different side of the tree. “How? It’s a—ah, a little—er, _obvious_ these days that you’re a woman.”

“Not when I bind my chest—not that there is much to bind, anyway.” She quietly cursed under her breath when she heard the branch groan under her weight. Taking a great deal of caution, she stood up and put one foot on a second branch to better distribute her weight. “But, no, he did not know I was a woman. Like that archery contest, it was men only.”

At that, Ling frowned. “Wait, you mean the archery contest during the festival?”

“Yes.”

“They didn’t let you compete!?”

“No, they didn’t,” Mulan sighed. “Apparently, the contest was for _men_ to show off their skills with a bow to show women how well they could provide for their families.”

Ling blew a raspberry. “It takes more than hitting a stationary target to provide for a family,” he stated.

“That is what I said!” Zhu reached up, just barely able to grab a branch. Gently, she pulled it towards her. “But I did not want to cause a scene, so we left.”

“That’s dumb,” Ling grumbled. “You would have gotten _all_ the ladies if you had been allowed to enter. …Or men. Or both? Come to think of it, I don’t ever told us which was you lean.”

Her brow rose. “What do you mean by that?”

“He means whether you like men or women,” Mulan explained, “or if you like both.”

“Oh.” She was thankful they couldn’t see her; her whole face had gone red. “I…believe I like both men and women,” she told them. “Lately, at least, that is what I seem to like.”

“Then, yeah, you could have won over all the ladies and men if you had been allowed in that contest,” Ling chuckled.

“She won over my stomach earlier that night,” Mulan laughed. “She won a batch of dragon’s beard candy and shared it with me!”

His eyes shot open. “What!? There was dragon’s beard candy!?” Then, spotting Little Brother about to lift his leg on a basket, he said in a scolding voice, “Don’t you _dare_ pee on that basket, Little Brother!”

The dog looked up at him in confusion but lowered his leg. He decided to go find a different thing to pee on.

“Mhm,” Zhu answered, quietly giggling at the two of them. “It was at one of the dart games. I do not know if the candy was the big prize, but it was good enough that I did not mind. Mulan, however, won a rather nice prize before that.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

Mulan felt her cheeks turn pink. “I won a necklace from one of the ring-toss games,” she explained. As she dumped another shirt’s worth of apricots into her basket, she grinned; it was time to start on her second basket.

“Was it a cheap necklace? I know, sometimes, the jewelry that’s put up as prizes can be of pretty low quality.”

“Oh, no, not at all! I won it from the hardest ring-toss game. You know, the one where there are different sized bottles you have to get the rings around?”

Ling let out an audible groan. “I _hate_ those ones! I swear, they have _got_ to be rigged somehow.”

“Rigged or not, Mulan got the top prize and I did not seem to be low quality,” Zhu smiled.

“It was a white-jade necklace,” Mulan described. “It had a little flower trinket in the center of all the beads.”

“That sounds pretty! How come I haven’t seen you wear it yet?”

“Because I gave it to Zhu. I have enough jewelry already and it looked pretty on her.”

Zhu felt her face grow red once more as she hopped out of the tree. “And I have yet to wear it again because I do not want it to get ruined in some fashion.” She carefully untied the basket from her shirt before setting it off to the side. Grabbing a second basket, she also yanked her shirt from the branch before carrying it to the other side of her tree.

Before she could tie the basket into place, however, Ling’s upside-down head suddenly appeared out of the foliage above her. She cursed, jumping backwards in surprise. He wore a triumphant grin despite the twigs and leaves sticking out of his hair. Zhu thought he looked rather adorable but wouldn’t allow herself to admit it—not when he had just startled her, at least.

“Boo!” he said jokingly.

She gave him a dry look before reaching over and gently removing a small spider from the side of his face. “It would seem you have made a new friend.”

He scrunched his nose up. “You know, I _thought_ I felt something crawling around on me, but I thought that was just the leaves.” With ease, he lowered his lower half down towards the ground before letting go and landing on his feet.

“What are you two going on about down there?” Mulan asked, unable to see them.

“I found a spider crawling on Ling.” Reaching up, she let the spider crawl from her palm and back into the foliage.

“Better a spider than a bird’s nest!”

“I don’t know,” Ling shrugged, grabbing his second basket and heading to the next tree. “If I had a bird’s nest on me, then we would at least have some lunch.”

Zhu snorted. “Or Mulan and I would be laughing our asses off as we watched you run away from an upset mother bird.”

“ _That’s_ the more likely of the two scenarios,” Mulan giggled.

Pouting, Ling started to climb the second tree. “What, you don’t think I couldn’t take on a little bird?”

“You could,” Zhu told him, “so long as it was _little_. If it were anything larger than a magpie, then you would be out of luck.”

“She has a point,” Mulan concurred. “Larger birds can be _fiercely_ protective of their nests and they’ve got sharper talons.”

He scrunched his nose up. “…Very true,” he mumbled. “I always forget about the talon part…”

 

Over the course of the next few hours, the three had become so engrossed in their conversations and joking around that they had forgotten entirely about their contest. As such, when they finally decided to take a break, they found that, together, they had filled nearly twenty-four baskets.

“So much for our little competition,” Zhu chuckled, placing one of the filled baskets into the cart. She then reached over, taking the basket Mulan had brought over.

“I think we can safely say that we’re _all_ winners,” Mulan smiled. She looked over her shoulder, searching for Ling. He was nowhere to be found. For now, she shrugged it off, thinking he had to relieve himself.

“Or all losers,” Zhu joked, heading over to the lineup of baskets. She crouched down and picked up one, resting it on her shoulder. As Mulan handed her a second one, she put that one on her other shoulder. “At least, once we get these ones in the cart, it will be time for a break.”

“True,” she chuckled. “I always forget how tedious it is to harvest all these fruits. I imagine it’s harder to harvest field-grown foods, though. I’d much rather stand upright all day than be bent in half, tugging on things.” She picked up another basket and followed Zhu to the cart.

Both had to walk carefully, as Little Brother was weaving his way in and out of their legs.

“Little Brother, are you _trying_ to kill us?” Zhu chuckled, her brow rising as she looked down at the dog.

“I think he’s trying to incapacitate us so we’ll be on the ground to give him pets,” Mulan laughed. Putting her basket in the cart, she scooped the dog up, nuzzling him before he had the chance to cover her face in licks. “Such a silly thing.”

Zhu put her baskets in the cart as well. “That he is,” she smiled, reaching over and scratching him behind the ears. She then frowned, looking around. “Where is Ling?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I thought he had gone off to relieve himself, but he would have been back by now.”

Taking a step away from Mulan, Zhu called out. “Ling? Are you still out here?”

“O-Over—Over here.” They were just barely able to hear his reply from a few trees away.

Looking at one another, both women frowned. Mulan set Little Brother down before heading over towards the tree Ling’s voice had come from.

“Is everything alright, Ling?” she asked, leaning against the trunk as she looked for him. Though she couldn’t see him, she could hear a loud buzzing sound.

“N-No,” he stammered, his voice still quiet.

Zhu’s brows furrowed; this tree had far more bees around it than the others. “What is wrong? Are you hurt?”

“Th-there’s a bee—beehive up he-here.”

“That explains it,” Zhu murmured.

“Then slowly climb down and try to not jostle the branches too much,” Mulan instructed. “They shouldn’t hurt you so long as you don’t act like a threat.” Walking around to the back of the tree, she was finally able to see him. He was about eight feet up, but whether he was sitting or standing, she couldn’t quite tell.

He swallowed hard. “I—I can’t move,” he told them, eyes fixed on the beehive. “I’m—I’m too scared. I don’t want to die.”

“Why do you think you are going to die if you move?” Zhu questioned.

“Because—Because if a bee stings you—if a bee stings you, you swell up and die,” he responded, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “I’ve seen—I’ve seen it. When I was little and in the—in the monastery. A boy got stung—just once—and he swelled up…he was dead within minutes.”

Mulan worriedly bit her lower lip as she glanced between Zhu and Ling. “That doesn’t happen to everyone,” she assured him. “I’ve been stung plenty of times and I’m still alive.”

“May—maybe it only happens to guys?” he stammered.

“No. I have seen the same thing happen to women,” Zhu sighed. “But, the chances of it happening to you are low. I know plenty of people who have been stung who survived with only minor pain.”

Shaking her head, Mulan looked back up at Ling; she had never seen him this scared before. “Ling, can you _try_ to make yourself move…?”

“I—I’m trying. I really am. But my body’s like lead!”

Zhu crouched down. “Get on my shoulders, Mulan,” she quietly ordered.

She frowned. “What?”

“He is paralyzed by fear,” she explained. “He won’t be able to move without our help. And, if you use the ladder, you run the risk of disturbing the hive. It would be safest for me to hold you on my shoulders while you helped get him down.”

Mulan nodded in understanding. “That makes sense,” she agreed. She climbed up onto Zhu’s back, wobbling slightly as the other woman stood upright once more. Zhu held onto her ankles, though, keeping her rooted in place.

Ling, she found, wasn’t quite as stuck as she had originally thought. He was standing upright, knuckles white as he gripped a branch for stability. His eyes were wide in terror and he was shaking. But he was also just a bit out of her reach; even on Zhu’s shoulders, she only came up to his knees.

Reaching over, she carefully set her hand on his calf. “Ling, it’s alright,” she soothed. “We’re here to get you down.”

He nodded shakily, though didn’t say anything.

“Hey.” She gave him a small shake, managing to temporarily startle him out of his panic and bringing his attention down to her. “It’s going to be fine. I’m right here. I won’t let you get stung—but I need you to move just a _bit_ , alright? You’re just a bit too far out of my reach.”

“Yeah…Yeah, I can do that,” he mumbled. Slowly, he started to crouch down on the branch.

While Mulan did her best to help Ling, Zhu was doing her best to keep herself from losing her balance. Normally, that wouldn’t have been a problem, but Little Brother was jumping all over her, trying to get her attention.

“I will pet you later, Little Brother,” she grunted, wincing slightly as his claws scraped against her leg. “I am a little busy right now!”

But Little Brother was nothing, if not persistent in his search for attention. Just as Mulan was able to get a hold of Ling, Little Brother took a flying leap at Zhu. She _always_ caught him, after all. Not this time, however.

Though the force wasn’t terribly great, it was enough to throw her balance. As Little Brother sulked away, Zhu swore loudly and tumbled backwards. Ling and Mulan cried out, also falling. The two landed in a heap atop Zhu, who grunted in pain.

After a few minutes of pained silence, Mulan finally spoke. “Little Brother…you are in _big_ trouble…” Propping herself up, she looked around for her dog only to see him sitting beside Zhu’s head, covering her in kisses.

Turning her head away from the onslaught, Zhu wheezed, “Are you two alright?”

“F-fine,” Ling grunted. He tried to sit up but found himself pinned between Zhu and Mulan. “Feeling a little bit like a pork bun like this, but it’s better than being covered in beestings…” A groan of relief left his mouth when Mulan rolled off of him. No longer pinned, he, too, rolled off Zhu and laid in the grass beside her. “You alright, Zhu?”

“I am not sure what hurts more,” she began, feeling Mulan rest her head against her stomach. “My stomach, where the two of you landed; or my pride, as I was bested by a _dog_.” Lazily, she reached up and gently pushed Little Brother back.

Mulan let out a breathless laugh. “You’re not the first one to fall victim to Little Brother’s neediness,” she promised. “And you certainly won’t be the last.”

“In other words, your pride can hurt a little bit, but let your stomach hurt worse,” Ling tiredly joked. The combination of picking fruit, the summer warmth, and being terrified had left him feeling exhausted.

He wasn’t the only one. Zhu had her eyes shut as she made no effort to move. “That sounds good,” she murmured, tiredness also beginning to take hold of her.

“I think it’s naptime,” Mulan yawned, covering her mouth. “But I don’t think naptime should be done under the beehive…”

“Good point.” Ling slowly forced himself to sit up. “A nap under a plum tree sounds quite nice about now.”

“Must I move?” Zhu mumbled, opening on eye.

“No,” giggled Mulan. “You can stay here. But Ling’s right: A plum tree nap _does_ sound quite nice.” She managed to get to her feet.

Pouting, Zhu rolled onto her side before also getting up. She rubbed her stomach and trudged over to a plum tree about five yards away—she didn’t want to be too close to the bees, after all. Flopping down, she rested her back against the trunk and, after a few adjustment wiggles, closed her eyes and sighed in content.

“You were right,” she admitted. “This _is_ nicer.”

Ling grinned, sitting down near her. “See? I can have good ideas, too.”

“Zhu, I’m going to use your leg as a pillow,” Mulan said with another yawn. Stretching out on the ground, she rested her head against Zhu’s thigh.

“I am afraid I do not make the best pillow.”

“On the contrary. Your leg is a perfectly good pillow right now.”

Chuckling, Ling shook his head as he brought a leg to his chest. Draping an arm over his knee, he let his eyes fall shut. “Thank-you, by the way…for helping me out back there…”

Zhu reached back and adjusted her braid slightly. “I am sure you would have done the same for us.”

“Not to mention, from what you told us, it’s perfectly logical for you to be that scared of bees,” Mulan added, her voice beginning to slur slightly. “I would be, too, if I had seen what you described.”

His eye opened as he felt a weight trot onto his lap. Finding Little Brother curling up against him, he let out a small sigh and petted the dog. “Still…It’s pretty dumb of me to get _that_ scared.” He let his eye fall shut once more.

“No, it is not,” Zhu assured him. “Fear comes in many forms and in many strengths. Do not be ashamed.”

Ling smiled. “You two are a lot nicer than Yao when it comes to this sort of stuff.”

“Yao screams at spiders, he has no room to poke fun at you.”

“That’s true,” he chuckled. “You know, I think I’m going to use you as a pillow, too. This tree is a bit harder than I anticipated.”

Her brow rose and her cheeks darkened when she felt him lean over and rest his head against her shoulder. “Shouldn’t—Shouldn’t _Mulan_ be the pillow? She’s softer than me.”

Mulan mumbled something; it was clear she was mostly asleep.

“I agree with whatever she said,” Ling chuckled. “Have a good nap, Zhu.”

“You, too,” she murmured. Opening her eyes, she looked at the two of them. Mulan was laying on her side, facing her, while Ling was just leaning over. Both wore small smiles as they fell asleep against her and she found herself having to resist the urge to bring them both closer.

“Spirits, why are you doing this to me?” she said under her breath. Swallowing hard, she closed her eyes and did her best to drift off to sleep.

 

~*~*~

 

One day was left.

Zhu sat atop the roof of the barn, eating a plum as she observed the landscape around her. Being night, things looked different than they did during the day. Forests seemingly stretched on forever. Hills turned into mountains, elongated by their shadows. Bodies of water were mirrors that reflected the sky. And the village of Tianshui looked like a painting.

‘As much as I love the steppes, this landscape is so much more beautiful,’ she thought, taking another bite of the plum. Over the last two days, she had learned that she vastly preferred the juicy tartness of plums to the mellow sweetness of apricots. Both were still delicious, however. ‘The steppes are just an endless, flat sea of grass.’

She looked down at the plum pit she now held. Tiny bits of fruit still clung to its bumps and ridges, but, for the most part, she had cleaned it of its flesh. She studied it a moment longer before chucking it over her shoulder.

Something down below caught her attention. One of the candles in the house had been extinguished—Su’s room. She was usually the first one to go to bed. Zhu couldn’t blame her; after cooking in the kitchen and tending to the garden all day, it was a wonder she had any energy left most days.

‘But after tomorrow, she’ll have one less person to worry about feeding,’ Zhu thought with a heavy sigh.

Her eyes started to sting but, before any tears could fall, she wiped them away. ‘Don’t you dare cry, Zhu,’ she scolded herself. ‘I have to protect them…I can’t risk them coming to harm. I can’t risk _any_ of them coming to harm.’

Bringing her knees to her chest, she hugged them. ‘This is for their own good. Yes, they’ll hate me. _I’ll_ hate me. But—but it’ll be so much better than being ambushed by the Mongolian princes.’

Her brows suddenly furrowed; she could hear the sound of hooves. Looking at the road, she scanned its length for any sign of a horse and rider. No one was approaching from Tianshui, so she turned around and looked towards the east. Her eyes narrowed; not one, but _two_ horses were galloping at full speed down the road.

‘Messengers?’ she thought, jumping from the roof into the tree that grew near it. ‘Or bandits looking to cause some sort of trouble?’ From the tree, she was able to climb onto the perimeter wall. She grabbed her bow and pulled some arrows from her quiver as she crept her way across the tiles. ‘No. If they were bandits, they would have more riders. Hm. One of them is slouched forward in the saddle; probably injured. That would explain the galloping. Wait.’

Narrowing her eyes once again, she studied the riders more carefully. The rider on the left was tall and thin—thinner than Ling, which was an accomplishment. Their horse was on the smaller side and was dark in color; brown, if the moonlight wasn’t playing tricks on her.

The injured rider, though, had broad shoulders and seemed to be of a somewhat muscular build. Their horse, she saw, was also broad and white with dappled grey spots on its neck and hindquarters. Its mane was cut short and its tail was braided and tied up, out of the way.

She knew those horses. She knew them _well_.

“Shang? Chi-Fu?” she called out when they were within earshot. She hopped down from the wall, walking into the middle of the road.

The two men brought their horses to a halt; it was harder to see them now that they were in the shadow of the wall.

“Shan Zhu,” Chi-Fu said, panting heavily, “where is the Empress? This is beyond urgent!”

“What happened?” she demanded. She swore as Shang started to slip sideways in the saddle. Darting forward, she caught him before he could fall. “Spirits, what happened to you?!”

“We—we were attacked,” Shang groaned. “The Mongols—they ambushed us…Zhu, your sisters—out of China. Get them out of—out of China.”

Her face paled as she looked up at her uncle. Before she could ask, Chi-Fu nodded grimly.

“The Emperor has been killed.”

 


	23. 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter time! Next week, I'll post the 2-chapter interlude in the new Daughter of Life link/story/thing!

“How’s he doing?”

“Better than he was. For now, the best thing for him is to get some rest.”

Mulan bit her lower lip, nodding slowly. “Can I see him?”

The doctor gave her a pitying smile. “He’s asleep right now,” he told her. “When he wakes up, yes, you can visit him. But for now, it’s best to just let him sleep.”

“Understood. Thank you, doctor, for coming on such short notice…and in the middle of the night.”

“My job is to treat the sick and injured—even if it means waking up in the dead of night.” His smile turned from pitying to reassuring. “Make sure to keep the wounds clean and change the bandages as often as you can. He should be back on his feet in a few weeks.”

She nodded once more, watching as he headed down the hall. Once he was around the corner, she let out a sigh of relief and leaned against the wall before slowly sliding down to the floor. She rubbed her face and quietly cursed under her breath.

Her parents and Grandma Fa had just gone to bed and she was doing some last bits of cleaning before going to bed herself. She was just about to extinguish the final lantern when Zhu burst in, an unconscious and bleeding Shang in her arms. From there, the night’s events turned into a blur. She could recall Zhu saying something about Mongol princes and the Emperor, but she couldn’t remember _what_ it was she had said.

“How is he doing?”

She looked up, seeing Grandma Fa walking towards her. “He’ll live. He just needs plenty of rest.” She didn’t like how solemn Grandma looked. “And frequent bandage changes.”

“Makes sense. The poor boy rode for _days_ with those injuries. He needs all the rest he can get.” She set her hand on her granddaughter’s shoulder. “Did Zhu tell you anything?”

“She did, but I…I wasn’t paying attention. I was too shocked by the sight of Shang.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re sitting.” She let out a heavy sigh, closing her eyes. “The Imperial City was attacked by one of the Mongolian armies. Somehow, the princes got wind that the Emperor had sent his daughters into hiding so he wouldn’t have to marry them off, except as a last resort. From what Chi-Fu said, they came in the middle of the night and they came fast. The city didn’t stand a chance—the _Emperor_ didn’t stand a chance.”

Mulan’s eyes widened in horror and she felt her face grow pale. “You mean—?”

“The Emperor is dead and the Mongol princes have their army scouring China for his daughters.”

She shook her head, unable to believe her grandmother. “But—but that’s impossible! He had so many guards; he had Shang! There’s no way that the princes would have reached him!”

“Chi-Fu said he and Shang found the Emperor already dying in his bedchambers.”

Clenching her eyes shut, Mulan rested her forehead against her palms. “This can’t be happening. It _can’t_! Everything has been so lovely and peaceful and _nice_! How could the gods let this happen?!”

Grandma Fa wrapped her arms around her, hugging her protectively. “I know how unbelievable this is, child.” she murmured. “But Shang and Chi-Fu are proof that this isn’t just a sick joke. We need to accept that this is real and we need to do our best to help poor Zhi and those girls of hers. We may have lost an Emperor, but they lost a husband and father.”

Sniffling, Mulan nodded against Grandma Fa’s shoulder. “You’re right,” she mumbled, voice a touch strained as she did her best to hold back a sob. “I should—I should go see them. Even if they’re too upset to talk, I can at least be there for them and—and make them some tea or something.”

She took a step back, allowing Mulan to get to her feet. “I’ll watch Sleeping Beauty while you’re over there,” she promised with a small chuckle.

Mulan smiled. “Thank you, Grandma.” She headed down the hall with a small sigh. Part of her wanted to stay here, with Shang; even though the doctor had assured her that he would be fine, she was still worried about him. But she knew she would be of little help to him while he slept. For now, she could provide comfort and support to the princesses, who she was positive were awake.

After putting on a light coat and her shoes, she hurried across the street. Both the main house and the servants’ house were fully lit as if it were daytime. As she came closer to the main house, she could hear the crying and wailing taking place inside. Before she could open the door, however, it swung inwards and she could see the silhouette of Ling in the doorway.

“O-Oh, Mulan.” His voice sounded heavy and despondent. “Um. You may not want to go in there right now. Zhi and the girls are…well. I’m sure you can hear them.”

“I came to see if they needed anything,” she replied.

“Other than their father back from the dead? No.” He sighed and shook his head, stepping out of the house. “In fact, they…don’t really want us near them right now. They’re only allowing your parents to see them.” He closed the door behind him.

She frowned. “Really?”

“Yeah. After Chi-Fu explained everything that had happened…They just wanted to be left alone.”

“That’s understandable.” Despite her words, she worriedly nibbled on her lower lip. “I…I don’t know the full story of what happened. Grandma told me the basics, but…”

He plopped down on the porch, motioning for her to sit as well. “There was a traitor within the palace,” he started, “and they had to have been close to the Emperor. Chi-Fu suspects one of the Emperor’s personal guards; Shang apparently thinks it may be one of the Emperor’s concubines. Either way, he’s dead now and the Mongol princes are searching for the princesses. Sadly, they know the general direction that the princesses are in, because they followed Shang and Chi-Fu as they fled the palace.”

“What?!” She shook her head in disbelief. “Shang wouldn’t abandon the palace like that!”

“He had no choice,” Ling assured her. “It was the Emperor’s final orders to him: To get his daughters out of China to keep them safe from the princes. Chi-Fu said that, even then, Shang wanted to stay and fight with his men, but knew he couldn’t refuse a dying wish.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees before continuing. “The princes eventually caught up to Shang and Chi-Fu, but there was a bridge separating them. Shang got hurt when he cut the bridge’s rope supports; some boards came flying back and hit him. But he made it so the princes would have to take the long way around—which means a delay of, at most, two weeks.”

“But if Zhi and the princesses have to leave China, where are they supposed to go? Where _can_ they go? They don’t know anything about the world outside of China.”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, voice growing quiet. “I really don’t. I just know that…Yao, Chien-Po, and I are going with them.”

“Good. They need you three now more than ever.”

Ling sighed. “Yeah…” He then slid a hand into his hair, letting his head rest in his palm. “I knew everything had been going too well…”

Mulan frowned and looked at him, curious. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “Just what it sounds like: Everything was going good. Yao, Chien-Po, and I had good jobs that paid well. We met women who were not just beautiful, but funny and sweet and intelligent as well—and those women _liked_ us. We had a _home_. And then it’s all ripped out from under our feet.” He shook his head. “The gods can be cruel, can’t they?”

“That they can,” she agreed, closing her eyes.

 

~

 

“No, that route is too dangerous…Hm. But with the lieutenants, it _may_ be doable…No. No, even with them, it would be far too much of a risk.”

A knock on the door startled Zhu enough that she reached for one of the knives sticking out of the wall. She relaxed, however, when she realized that if someone wanted to kill her, they _probably_ wouldn’t be knocking.

“Come in,” she sighed, tiredly rubbing her face. When the door slid open, she didn’t bother to look to see who it was. Instead, she placed her finger on the large map in front of her, tracing out a route as she quietly mumbled to herself.

“Shan Zhu.”

She closed her eyes, a shudder running down her spine. She had come to hate her full name. “Chi-Fu.” Turning around, she faced her uncle with her arms crossed.

He nodded at the map behind her. “I see you’re already plotting a route for your mother and sisters to take.” His voice bore only a hint of the contempt that usually filled it and his face was thinner than normal. “Do you have a destination in mind? Or are you going to take them as far away as possible and find a place from there?”

“A bit of both, actually.” She turned somewhat, pointing at a spot on the map that was in the far west. “This area here. It had good land, bountiful forests, clear rivers, and it is far enough away that the Mongol princes would not think to look that far.”

“How do you know about that place?” he asked, stepping closer to get a better look at the map. He was surprised by its size and by how many trade routes and roads there were; he had only seen maps of China and the areas immediately surrounding it. To see that his home was so small compared to the rest of the world was almost intimidating.

Zhu glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “It is where my people used to spend the winter…before Shan Yu became obsessed with growing his army.”

To her great surprise, Chi-Fu didn’t show any signs of distaste. “How long of a journey would it be?” he asked, thoughtfully stroking his chin.

“Three—maybe three and a half—months by the quickest route. Four or five months by the safest route.”

He nodded in understanding, remaining silent.

“With summer ending,” she continued, using her bandage-covered hands to section off the middle part of the map, “crossing this stretch of land will be much easier, as we would not have to worry about the heat. However, we _would_ have to be cautious of the tribes that are scattered throughout this land. Some are friendly with my people, some are not.”

He made a concerned sound. “How likely are they to attack if they find out you’re a Hun?”

“They may let the rest of you go. As for me?” She shrugged. “At the bare minimum, they will want my head on a pole.”

Zhu couldn’t tell which emotion was greater on her uncle’s face: Excitement or horror.

“But, you will not have to worry about that. I will not be traveling with you.” She turned entirely towards the map now, once again studying it.

His eyes widened. “What!? What do you mean, you won’t be traveling with us?! _You’re_ the one who knows those lands!”

“Once I figure out the road you will take, I will give you a detailed map.”

With a growl, Chi-Fu grabbed her shoulder and forcibly turned her around. He then pointed a bony finger at her. “The lives of your mother and sisters depends on _you. You_ , Shan Zhu! And you’re just going to hand them a sheet of paper and send them off on their merry way?” Even though he was nearly yelling, Zhu didn’t flinch. “What will you be doing instead, hmm? Making your way to the Imperial City to try and lay claim to the throne yourself?!”

Grabbing his wrist, she squeezed it just enough that he was forced to release her shoulder. “I would not hesitate to join my family on their journey westwards,” she told him in an eerily calm and empty voice. “In fact, I would much _prefer_ to join them. But, instead, I have something else that I must see to.” She released his wrist only to quickly regret it. “And do _not_ call me ‘Shan Zhu’ anymore.”

Chi-Fu used the back of his hand to strike her across the face. “ _Nothing_ in this world is more important that safety of Zhi and her daughters!” he nearly shouted. A cruel sense of joy and pride swelled inside him when he saw blood beginning to trick out of her nose. “Do you understand that, _Shan_ Zhu? _Nothing!_ As such, you _will_ be accompanying us on this journey!”

“No, I will _not_ ,” she snapped, ignoring the blood for now. “I will plan your route and I will give the map to my mother. After that, I _will_ attend to my errand—”

He backhanded her again. “You intend to send us to our deaths, don’t you? That’s it, isn’t it!?” he snarled. “ _That’s_ why you refuse to come with us, isn’t it? You’re going to give us a map that will take us into enemy territory where we’ll all be enslaved or killed!”

The blood started to flow more freely down her face and she tried to wipe it away. It was to no avail, though. “The only person I would give a false map to is _you_ , you thrice-damned son of a louse!” she barked. “ _You_ don’t deserve the safety and protection my family will—”

“I _am_ your family, you ungrateful, barbarian bitch!” he shouted. “And it would seem that, by far, I care more for this family than you ever could!”

“I would do _anything_ to protect my family!” she snapped. “I would gladly sacrifice my health, my life, and my happiness to ensure their safety! And that’s _just_ what I—”

“Says the wretch who’s running away like a coward!”

“WILL YOU SHUT UP AND LET ME FINISH FOR ONCE?!” Zhu suddenly screamed, her voice filled with the frustration and anger she felt.

Chi-Fu stared at her, stunned by her outburst.

She took advantage of his silence. “For the sake of the spirits, if you would just _shut up_ ,” she cried, “you would know that the army I intend to gather is the remainder of the Mongol army! And, before you open that spirits’-damned mouth of yours to ask ‘how’, it’ll be done by marrying Mundzuc, the youngest of the Mongol princes. I’m positive you’ve heard of him: He was one of the two members of Shan Yu’s elite to escape the Imperial dungeons.”

“You’re going to do _what_?”

Her eyes widened and she spun around. Yao, Ling, and Chien-Po were standing in the doorway; how long they had been there, she didn’t know. But seeing their wide eyes and pale faces, she knew they had been there long enough.

All of a sudden, Zhu found that she wanted nothing more than to hide from them.

“It looks like you’ve gotten an unexpected audience,” Chi-Fu told her, a smug grin on his lips as he crossed his arms over his chest. “And, judging by your expression, they just learned something you _hadn’t_ been intending to tell them.”

She threw him a glare. “Get out of my room,” she quietly ordered. “ _Now_.”

“I don’t take or—”

“Chi-Fu, if you want to leave this room _alive_ , then leave _now_.” As she spoke, she glanced at the daggers sticking out of her wall.

Seeing where her gaze went, Chi-Fu swallowed hard. “Step aside, you fools,” he growled, shoving his way past Chien-Po and Ling.

Yao cracked his knuckles and started to follow after him, but Chien-Po set his hand atop his head, stopping him and guiding him back to the doorway.

Closing her eyes, Zhu let out a heavy sigh. “…How much did you three hear?” she asked, voice quiet. She crossed the room and sat on her bed.

“Technically, all of it once the two of you started shouting,” Ling told her. “But we only heard shouting, not _what_ was being shouted. That’s why we hurried over, though.”

Chien-Po nodded in agreement. “We got here right after you screamed…”

“…You’re not really goin’ to marry that guy, are ya, kid?” Yao asked, concern in his voice and in his expression. “If he’s a Mongol _an’_ one o’ your uncle’s elite, then that makes him an enemy. How do ya know he won’t betray ya an’ use ya as a way t’ get your sisters for his brothers?”

She tiredly rubbed her face, not caring that she only ended up smearing blood all over it. “Because,” she sighed, “the two of us have been engaged for nearly ten years. I _was_ supposed to marry him before Shan Yu invaded China. Ever since then, he has had a…bizarre fondness for me.”

Ling gave Chien-Po a small nod. “But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t betray you,” he told Zhu, Chien-Po disappearing up the hall. “He’s a Mongol; you can’t trust him.”

“As much as I hate to say it, I _can_ trust him.” She shifted her position so that she had her back against the headboard. “There are three things in this world Mundzuc wants above all else: Power and to humiliate his brothers are the more important of the three.”

Pulling a knee to her chest, she rested her forehead against it. “By marrying me, he inherits a third of his father’s army—five thousand men— _and_ he becomes his father’s chosen heir.” She thought it best to leave out that, in order to become the chosen heir, Mundzuc would have to have a child with her.

Yao frowned. “Five thousand men is pretty hard t’ say ‘no’ to,” he admitted. He sat on the foot of her bed, his hands clasped between his thighs.

“But we’ll be leaving China,” Ling argued, sitting down next to Zhu. “Chi-Fu said it’ll be nearly two weeks before the princes will reach Tianshui. In that time, we’ll have packed up and left _hundreds_ of miles between us and here. We won’t _need_ an army at that point.”

“ _You_ will not need an army, no,” she murmured, “but _I_ will.”

Yao and Ling exchanged confused looks. “An’ why is that?” the former questioned.

“Because I will be bringing the last of my people to the same place that I will be sending you to.” She tilted her head so that she now rested her chin atop her knee. “Yes, there are still Huns who live—not many, but enough that they will need protection crossing the Sea of Grass.”

Ling glanced over at the door as Chien-Po returned, a bowl and cloth in hand. “But…why? What’s the point of bringing them?” he asked. He scooted down the bed so Chien-Po could take his place.

“There are less than three hundred of my people left,” Zhu explained, letting Chien-Po begin tending to her bloodied face. “They are leaderless and are being taken advantage of by rival tribes. As their queen, it is my duty to—”

“Wait,” Yao interrupted. “ _Queen_? Since when did ya become their _queen_?”

Chien-Po frowned. “The moment Shan Yu died,” he answered for Zhu. “She _is_ his heir, after all, being that she is his niece and only surviving family member.” He gently wiped away the blood staining her upper lip and nose. “And, as their queen, it makes sense that she would want to bring them somewhere safe, especially since their numbers are so low.”

“But will they accept Zhu as their queen?” Ling asked. “She’s been gone almost five years—for all they know, she could be dead. What if someone else took power?”

Zhu shook her head. “They know I live,” she told them, “and…and they know I want to be there for them. They would not have let anyone else take over.” She winced slightly when Chien-Po had to rub against the spot where Chi-Fu had struck her.

Yao rubbed the back of his neck, a heavy, tired sigh leaving his mouth. “So, this whole time, you’ve been their queen an’ you’ve been livin’ in China. Ain’t royalty supposed t’ live with their people?”

“Not when they’re being held as a political prisoner.” Again, it was Chien-Po who answered.

Zhu’s brows rose in surprise. “How did you—?”

“For some time now, I’ve had a feeling that you weren’t living quite as freely as the rest of us,” he explained. “You didn’t go to town very often and, when you did, you didn’t stay long. Whenever the Emperor was brought up in conversation, you would look and sound displeased. The final tip was how the Emperor sent you on an ‘errand’. If you disliked him so much, why would you _willingly_ go on an ‘errand’ for him?”

She quietly laughed. “Someone has been practicing his observation skills.”

“No kidding,” Ling chuckled. “I didn’t notice _any_ of that stuff. And, even if I did, I would have just shrugged it off as having been raised to hate the Emperor anyway.”

Having finished cleaning her face, Chien-Po stood up and carried the bowl of bloodied water over to Zhu’s window. “There were times I wanted to ask you about your dislike of the Emperor,” he admitted, opening the window, “but I didn’t think it was a topic you would be eager to answer.” He tossed the water outside.

“You are right.” She changed her sitting position once more, letting her legs hang over the side of the bed. “The Emperor and I shared a mutual hatred for one another. I respected him, of course—he ruled over an enormous country and had a fairly peaceful reign. How could I _not_ respect him? But he had no respect for me and he made sure I knew it.”

“I know you’re tellin’ us the truth, kid,” Yao said, “but it’s a hard truth t’ believe. Every time we met the Emperor, he was like a sweet ol’ grandfather.”

“And he was that way towards _everyone_ , I assure you. Everyone, that is, _except_ me.”

“And Ting-Ting,” Ling added. Chien-Po, Yao, and Zhu looked at him in confusion. “Yeah, I know the truth, Zhu,” he chuckled, nervously rubbing his arm. “Ting-Ting is the younger daughter of Shan Da—she’s your full-blooded sister.”

“Was wonderin’ where she got that strength from,” Yao mumbled, his eye widening. “Makes sense now that I think ‘bout it, though.” He then shook his head and tiredly rubbed his face. “Gah, tonight’s been just so damned _strange_ …First, Shang an’ Chi-Fu come out o’ nowhere an’ tell us the Emperor’s dead. Then, we’re told we have t’ get the girls out o’ China. An’ now we learn that Zhu’s a _queen_ an’ Ting-Ting is a Hun! Can someone slap me so I know this ain’t some weird nightmare-dream hybrid thing?”

Both Ling and Zhu started to lean towards him, making him yelp and throw himself backwards.

“I wasn’t serious!” he protested.

Zhu quietly laughed. “But you sounded so serious,” she teased. She looked at the three lieutenants; their exhaustion was all too clear. “You three should try to get some sleep. The next few days are going to be…chaotic, to say the least.”

Chien-Po nodded in agreement. “We will need all the rest we can get,” he added. “The princesses will be in no shape to help pack, so it’ll be up to us to get everything ready.”

“We will discuss it more tomorrow,” Zhu said, “after breakfast and after I have checked on my mother and sisters.”

Sliding off the bed, Yao nodded. “Yeah…sounds like a good idea,” he said through a yawn. “You try an’ get some rest, too, kid.”

“I will try my best.” She gave him a small, reassuring smile before he left the room. Chien-Po followed, but Ling remained on her bed. “You should head to bed, Ling,” she told him, voice quiet.

He looked at her; there was an emotion in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before—or, if she had, she didn’t recognize it. “Isn’t there another way you could get an army?” he asked her, his voice also soft. “A way that _doesn’t_ involve you marrying someone you hate?”

“I am afraid not.”

He frowned. “That’s not fair! What if you fell in love with someone? You couldn’t be with them because you were already married to that other guy!”

A sorrowful smile appeared on her lips. “It does not matter,” she said, “because, with my luck, the only people I would fall in love with would have already given their hearts away.” She hoped that her voice sounded casual enough; the last thing she needed right now was for Ling and Mulan to find out that she was in love with them. It would just make things uncomfortably awkward—even ruin their friendship.

Ling let out a heavy sigh. “It still isn’t fair. Can’t you just like…kill him after getting the army? His dad doesn’t need to know.”

She let out a small laugh. “Yes, I could kill him and then have five thousand angry Mongols chasing after me.” Despite her sarcasm, her tone was humorous. “If I were an expert with poisons, then _maybe_ I would have a chance. As it is, however, I am _not_ an expert and would surely only end up poisoning myself instead of him.”

“Well…Su’s a botanist. Maybe she can slip a deadly plant or three into his morning eggs for you?” She laughed again, confusing him. “Why are you laughing? I’m being completely serious!”

“I know you are,” she chuckled, “but the way you’re _saying_ the suggestions is the amusing part. Slipping a deadly plant _or three_ into his morning eggs?”

He rubbed his arm, a smile coming to his lips. “…Alright, I can see how that’s just a _tiny_ bit funny,” he admitted. “But better safe than sorry! If one of the plants doesn’t work, the other two are _bound_ to do something, right?”

“As true as that is, I would not want my youngest sister to turn into a murderess on my behalf.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “It is not her burden to bear—nor is it yours. There are other, more important, things you should be worrying about.”

Frowning, Ling shook his head and stood up. “You can be frustratingly difficult at times, you know that?”

“I have heard such a time or two, yes.” She watched as he headed for the door. “Ling?”

He stopped, turning to look at her. “Yeah?”

“…Thank-you for still being my friend, despite how frustratingly difficult I can be.”

“The times when you’re _not_ difficult more than make up for it,” he chuckled. “Goodnight, Zhu.”

“Goodnight, Ling.” She watched as he slid her door shut before pulling her knees to her chest. Burying her face in her thighs, she quietly sighed and closed her eyes. “Ting-Ting is the one he should be more concerned about,” she mumbled. “I’m not worth worrying over.”

 

~*~

 

Mulan awoke to the sound of muffled conversation taking place in the next room over. Her brows furrowing, she sat up and, rubbing her eyes, looked around. She was in her own room and she was half dressed, half in nightclothes. It was then she remembered what had happened the previous night.

‘That’s right,’ she told herself, slipping her legs over the edge of her bed. ‘The Emperor’s dead…’ She rubbed her face, trying to get the crusty bits of sleep out of the corners of her eyes. ‘And Shang is injured—’ She paused in her movements, her eyes widening. ‘He’s _injured_!’

Bolting from bed, she made quick work of changing into a fresh set of clothes. Her comb in hand, she paced back and forth in front of her bed as she brushed her hair. The talking in the next room continued, letting her know that Shang was at least conscious enough to have a conversation.

‘That’s good,’ she reassured herself. ‘It means he got a good amount of rest last night—at least, I _hope_ that’s what it means. But has he eaten anything yet? Has anyone changed his bandages or given him his medicine?’

Once she finished brushing her hair, she tossed her comb onto her bed and left her room. It was only a few steps down the hall to Shang’s room, where the door was partially open. Peeking inside, she could see that he was sitting up and there was a tray over his lap. Sitting on a stool beside the bed was Zhu, who held a large, rolled up sheet of paper.

Lightly knocking on the doorframe, she poked her head inside. “Hey, sleepyhead,” she gently teased, smiling when Shang looked at her. “How are you feeling?”

He returned the smile, his features softening a bit as she stepped into the room. “Like I’ve been trampled by a herd of horses,” he admitted. “I suppose you’ve already heard the news.”

“I’m afraid so.” Her smile faded into a frown. As she came nearer to the bed, Zhu stood up, offering her the stool. “No, no—you can keep the stool.” She also found that the tray over Shang’s lap had a few small plates of partially-eaten food and a nearly-empty cup of tea.

Zhu shook her head. “I was getting ready to leave anyway,” she said. “I have…a lot of arrangements to make and tasks to organize.” She gave Mulan a small smile before looking at Shang. “Would you like me to leave the map with you or…?”

“Yes, please. I’d like to study it a bit more.”

She set it on the bedside table before starting to leave. Before she could get halfway across the room, however, Mulan grabbed her arm.

“Don’t overwork yourself,” she half ordered, half pleaded. “You’ll be useless to your mother and sisters if you’re half-dead of exhaustion.”

Her brow rose and a teasing smile came to her lips. “I assure you, I am good to go until I am three-quarters dead of exhaustion.”

Mulan pouted. “Zhu, I’m serious. There’s no shame in taking a break or two. You’re human like the rest of us. You _need_ rest.”

“Do not worry,” she quietly assured her. “Even if I get too absorbed in my work, I am sure Ling or Yao will force me to take breaks.”

“Good.” She let go of Zhu’s arm. “I’ll be over later to check on you and help out if it’s needed.”

Nodding, Zhu left the room. Mulan used her foot to scoot the stool a bit closer to the bed before sitting down.

“I’m sorry I worried you so much last night,” Shang said, setting the tray of food aside. He pushed himself upright a bit more, wincing as he adjusted the pillows behind him. “I couldn’t afford to stop at a healer on the way here.”

“No, no—it’s understandable,” she told him, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “I would have done the same thing if I were in your position.” She rested her hand on the edge of the bed. “I’m just glad you weren’t hurt worse than you are. The doctor said that his biggest concern was how exhausted you were.”

He nodded in agreement. “I didn’t expect those boards to come flying back at me. I should have, though. Those ropes were pulled tight…” Closing his eyes, he let his head fall back against the pillows. “How’re Zhi and the princesses doing?”

“Not well—but, it’s to be expected.” Biting her lower lip, she slid her hand a bit closer to his. “My parents are taking care of them.”

“That’s what Grandma was telling me earlier. I’m…surprised they’re allowing your father to stay over there. I would think they wouldn’t want to see him…”

“To be honest, I am, too. But, for all I know, he’s the one making all the tea or something.” She shrugged, a half-hearted smile on her lips. “But I’m glad that they _can_ be there for them. From what I hear, they don’t even want their lover-boys with them…”

At that, Shang cocked a brow and opened an eye to look at her. “…Their _lover-boys_?” he repeated, his voice bearing a distinct lack of humor. “Don’t tell me you mean—”

“Yes, I mean the goofballs.” She quietly chuckled. “I guess Zhi finally relented and allowed her daughters to start properly courting them.”

“I should have known something like this would happen,” he said. Mulan felt a bit of relief when he chuckled. “Those three goofballs had fallen head-over-heels for them at first sight, after all.” A heavy sigh then left his mouth. “I suppose they’ll be coming with us when we leave.”

Mulan nodded, though she knew he couldn’t see it. “Ling told me they would.” She then reached over, grabbing the roll of paper and unfurling it on the bed beside him. Its size surprised her; like Chi-Fu, she had only seen maps of China and some of the land around it. “Is this dot way in the west where you’ll be going?”

Opening his eyes, he looked over at her. “Yes. Zhu said it’s a wonderful spot—apparently, when she was younger, the Huns would spend the winter there. She said there’s good hunting, good land, forests, and clear rivers.”

“That does sound nice. But…” Frowning, she ran her finger from China, across the paper to the dot. “It’s so far away.”

He nodded. “It is. It will take us at least three months to get there.”

“Why so far? Couldn’t you just stay within the Tibetan Empire?”

“It’s so far away because the Mongols won’t think to look for the girls that far from their home.” Reaching over to the tray, he plucked up a half-eaten fruit dumpling. “That, and Zhu said the area is somewhat hidden in a mountain valley. Which is good, considering her plans to bring the last of her people to the area as well.” He popped the rest of the dumpling in his mouth.

At that, Mulan’s brows rose in surprise. “…She _what_?”

He nodded, chewing his food and swallowing it. “She’ll be bringing the remainder of the Huns to the area as well.” Seeing that Mulan was still surprised, he further explained. “They mostly consist of women, children, and the elderly. Apparently, the remaining warriors have been killing one another off in attempts to assume control. To make matters worse, rival tribes have started harassing them as well.”

She frowned, letting go of the map and watching it roll itself back up. “How does she know all that?”

“To be honest? I’m not sure. I suppose she has a contact she meets with, since she hasn’t been able to go there in person.” He reached over to the plates of food once more, this time retrieving an untouched scallion pancake. “I just know that she’s thinking about having them make a permanent settlement in the area.” He took a bite of the pancake.

“She’s gotten all _that_ figured out since just last night?”

“It’s Zhu,” he said with a shrug. “She always has a plan.”

The frown remained on her face; something didn’t seem quite right about all this. Zhu was a quick thinker during stressful situations, yes, but even she couldn’t come up with something so elaborate in such a short amount of time…For now, however, she had to take Shang’s word for it.

“Do you plan on going with them in this condition?” she asked after some minutes.

He nodded, his cheeks turning a bit pink as he glanced away from her. “I must. I promised the Emperor I would make sure his daughters got to safety.” He managed a reassuring smile as he looked at her. “This time, however, I won’t have to push myself and ride for days on end with very little sleep. Even with us needing to make haste, we’ll still be stopping at night to sleep.”

“You had _better_ get some sleep while traveling,” she scolded.

“I will, I promise.”

“Good.” Leaning back slightly, she covered her mouth as she yawned. “It’ll be bad enough, knowing Zhu’s going to over-exert herself. I don’t need you doing the same.” She let her hand fall back onto the bed, her cheeks growing warm when Shang set his hand over it.

“I promise I’ll take care of myself,” he told her, voice soft. “ _And_ I’ll watch over Zhu as best as I can for you.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, a smile on his face.

She nodded slowly and she also smiled. “Thank you.” She hated to admit it, but she had almost forgotten how handsome he was when he smiled. It had only been a few months since she had last seen him, after all. But it felt like a few _years_ had passed between then and now. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”

“As do I.” He let his thumb gently stroke the back of her hand. “As do I.”

 

~*~

 

There was a knock on her door.

Lifting her head from the pillow, Su sniffled out a ‘come in’ before letting her face fall back into the cushion.

“Hey.” It was Zhu. “I…ah, I brought you some tea. It is almond and orange flavored.”

She turned her head ever so slightly, watching as Zhu set a teapot and teacup on her bedside table. “Thank you,” she mumbled, voice nearly inaudible thanks to the pillow.

Kneeling down beside the bed, Zhu reached over and gently rubbed her back. “How are you doing?” she asked. Out of the three princesses, Su had taken the news of the Emperor’s death the hardest.

“Everything hurts.” She forced herself to roll over and, with a bit of help from her sister, sat up. “My throat hurts, my eyes hurt, my heart hurts…everything just _hurts_.”

Zhu grabbed the cup of tea and gently placed it in Su’s hands. “That is understandable. You lost your father and have been crying for nearly two days. I would be surprised if you did _not_ hurt.”

She took a long, slow drink of the tea. Its warmth felt nice and helped ease the soreness in her throat. The flavor, however, left much to be desired. “I’ve fallen asleep a few times,” she sighed, “and I dreamt of when I was little. How father would take me in the garden and let me dig in the earth and get dirty. How he would teach me which plants were which. But then I wake up and—and I remember he’s _gone_.” She choked out a sob, clenching her eyes shut. But no tears fell; she had cried them all out.

Zhu reached over and rubbed her back again. She knew better than to try and say some comforting words; ones that would bring her calmness would only further upset Su. So, instead, she remained silent and, when Su abandoned her teacup in favor of clutching onto her big sister, she returned the hug.

“What are we going to do, Zhu?” she whimpered. “Where are—where are we supposed to go? We can’t go back home! The Mongols—the Mongols will get us and force us to be their wives!”

“I will not let that happen,” she promised, voice soothing. “I promise, I am going to do all within my power to keep you three and mother as safe as possible. You will not be the wives of anyone not of your choosing.”

Su sniffled. “But they’re _going_ to find us, Zhu! Even you, yourself, said they would scour the entirety of China for us! We won’t be able to stay hidden in Tianshui forever!”

“Shh, shh…They will scour China, yes, but you will not be in China.” She squeezed Su just a bit to help her feel safer. “I am going to take you across the world to somewhere where you will be safe…and, eventually, happy.”

“ _Just_ us?”

“No. The goofballs will be joining us. Shang _may_ , but I need to have a discussion with him about that…”

Su nodded, leaning away from her sister in order to wipe her eyes. Though she hadn’t shed any tears, they still itched. “What about Uncle Chi-Fu?”

The corner of Zhu’s lip twitched as she forced herself to not sneer. “He…will also be joining us,” she said, her voice betraying her distaste.

But, her attempt to remain civil amused Su enough to make her giggle. “I had better bring lots of waxed cotton so we don’t have to listen to his complaining…” Sighing, she pulled herself back up onto her bed and poured herself another cup of tea.

“Speaking of bringing things…” Zhu rubbed the back of her neck. “I—I admittedly did not come here _just_ to give you tea and to check up on you.”

“I figured as much.” She slowly drained the cup in one drink, the soothing warmth managing to bring even more calm to her mind. “What do you need?”

“What sorts of seeds do you have?”

Su’s brow rose. “What kind of _seeds_ do I have?” she questioned, her voice still a bit hoarse despite the tea. “Do you mean seeds for edible plants or decorative plants?”

“Both, though the edible ones are more important.”

She started to list them off, using her fingers to help keep track. “Well, I have rice, wheat, carrots, cabbage, basil, cilantro, rosemary, lavender, ginger, garlic, onion, scallion, leek…”

Zhu held up her hand, silencing her with a small laugh. “Alright, alright—you have more than enough.”

“Why did you need to know?”

“Because…the place I am taking you to will not be _just_ your new home. I plan on bringing the last of the Huns to that area as well. And…we are not known for our farming.”

Su nodded in understanding. “You’d like me and Chien-Po to help teach them how to at _least_ garden,” she stated.

“Yes.”

“How many Huns will there be…? Won’t it be dangerous to have us around them?”

Zhu shook her head. “There are less than three hundred left and they are mostly women, children, and the elderly. If anything, they will thank you for teaching them how to garden because it means they will be able to better feed their children.”

She nodded once more. “What is the area like?”

“You would like it. It is a large valley hidden amongst mountains. Its weather is mild year-round and the soil there is good and rich. There are forests and two rivers feeding into a large lake.”

“That _does_ sound rather nice…But, what about farming animals?”

“ _That_ they do know how to do.” She smiled reassuringly. “We will have to get used to not traveling across the world twice a year, but I think that is something they would find preferable.”

Su chuckled again. “I think so, too.” She poured herself a third cup of tea.

“…Did I do alright making the tea?” Zhu asked, rubbing the back of her neck. “I wasn’t sure how long to let it steep…”

“Oh, it tastes _disgusting_ ,” Su told her, “like watered down orange pulp. But…it helps. A lot, actually. My throat isn’t as sore and talking doesn’t hurt as much as it did. So, thank you. I appreciate it.”

Zhu’s brow rose. “Even though it tastes bad?”

“Even though it tastes bad,” she smiled.

 

~*~

 

“Ouch…Note to self: Don’t place full weight on left leg again.” Shang winced as he slowly eased himself down onto the edge of the bed. With everyone so busy, he hadn’t wanted to trouble Fa Li or Mulan to open his window and, even though he _knew_ he shouldn’t have done it, he had gotten out of bed and opened the shutters. “At least there’s a bit of fresh air in here now…”

“Could not wait for someone to come open the window for you?”

His eyes widened and he looked over his shoulder only to see Zhu coming into the room. “I didn’t want to trouble anyone,” he said, sighing in relief. He had hoped it wouldn’t be Mulan or Grandma, lest he get scolded. “What do you need?” Wincing, he pushed himself back against the pillows propped against the headboard.

“To speak with you.” As she closed the door, Shang knew whatever it was serious. “About the journey.”

“What about it?”

She sat down on the stool, looking him in the eye. “I think you should remain in Tianshui.”

“Zhu, you know I can’t do that. I made a promise—”

“A promise to see my sisters to safety; yes, I know.”

He heavily sighed, shaking his head. “If I don’t go with you, Zhu, it’ll eat away at me for the rest of my life.”

There was a frown on her face as her brow rose. “And if you came with us, the rest of your life will be spent wishing you had stayed with Mulan.”

He looked at her from the corner of his eye. “…What?”

“You heard me.” She continued to stare at him, blinking half as often in hopes of unnerving him just enough to make him listen to her. “We both know that this journey is a permanent one, Shang. We will not be coming back to China—not in this lifetime, at least.

“We both also know how much you love Mulan,” she continued. Shang couldn’t help but notice that her voice had a strange sadness to it now. “ _Everyone_ knows it, so do not try to deny it. And she loves you, too. Now that you are no longer a general, the two of you can finally be together—but _only_ if you do not come with us.”

Shang swallowed hard, glancing away from her. “Zhi and the girls are my family,” he said, voice quiet. “I can’t just abandon them for love’s sake.”

“And you cannot abandon love just for family’s sake.” She sat up a bit straighter. “My mother and sisters would understand entirely if you chose to stay here, Shang. In fact, I have no doubt that they would _want_ you to stay. You would be happier here.”

“I _promised_ the Emperor, Zhu,” he told her, his voice firm. “I _promised_ him I—”

“The Emperor is _dead_ , Shang,” she interjected. “How is he supposed to know if you kept your promise or not?”

He frowned. “You know enough about Chinese religion to know _how_ he would find out, Zhu,” he snapped. “If I broke my promise to him, I would be bringing dishonor and bad luck upon myself—don’t you _dare_ roll your eyes at me, Shan Zhu!”

She tensed, her eyes widening ever so slightly while Shang winced.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, rubbing his face. “I didn’t mean to call you that. I just—Zhu, you _need_ to understand how important honor is to us Chinese.”

“I _do_ understand how important it is to you,” she replied, “but that does not keep me from finding it ludicrous. You, a man who has spent his entire life devoted to protecting China and its people, cannot possibly lose the vast amounts of honor I am _positive_ you’ve amassed by breaking _one_ promise to a _dead_ man. Does that not sound ridiculous to you?!”

He remained silent, not wanting to admit that it _did_ sound ridiculous.

“Shang, you _love_ Mulan,” she continued. “And she _loves_ you. After everything the two of you have gone through, don’t you think it is time the two of you deserve to be together? If you stayed here, you would be able to finally court her—to _marry_ her. You may even have children with her someday! Doesn’t that sound so much better than living across the world, filled with regret?”

“…It does,” he murmured, avoiding her gaze.

“Then _stay_.”

He finally looked at her again. “But, if I stay, then there will be no one to look after you.”

Her brow rose in confusion. “Pardon?”

“I told Mulan I would make sure _you_ didn’t get hurt. If I stay here, then there would be no one to do that.”

She shook her head. “Shang, you know that my route is different from the one my mother and sisters are taking. I will be traveling alone—at least…until I reach my people.” He watched as a strange sadness filled her eyes.

“What about when you finally meet up with them again? Who will watch over you then?”

“My…husband.” She shook her head again and rubbed the back of her neck. “This is not about _me_ , Shang. This is about you and Mulan and the happiness you two deserve.”

Shang was about to speak when there was a knock on the door. He looked past Zhu. “Come in!” he said, thankful for the distraction.

The door slid open a bit and Mulan came in with a tray of food. “I was hoping you were—Oh, hey, Zhu!” She smiled at the two as she brought the tray over to the bed. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“You were not,” Zhu told her. “Shang was just telling me how he has decided to stay in Tianshui instead of coming with us.”

Shang’s eyes widened in shock; he couldn’t believe she just did that.

Mulan blinked, looking between the two of them. “But, I thought you said you made a promise…?” she asked, gaze settling on Shang. “Going by your expression, however, Zhu just told me a lie.”

“It is only a partial lie,” Zhu admitted, standing up. “Shang _is_ staying here because I am _making_ him stay here.” She straightened out her tunic as she turned slightly, intending to leave.

Shang glared at her. “Zhu, you can’t just _make_ me stay here—”

“As queen of the Huns, I _order_ you to stay in Tianshui!” she suddenly snapped. She instantly regretted it when she saw Mulan jump, startled by the outburst. Closing her eyes, she sighed. “I am sorry. I did not mean to shout.”

Mulan gave her a pitying smile. “You’ve been under a lot of stress,” she said. “It’s understandable. But…why are you so adamant that Shang stay here…? Is it because of his injuries?”

Zhu shook her head. “No. I want him to stay because he would be happier here.”

“And I told her I couldn’t stay here because I need to fulfill my promise to the Emperor,” Shang sighed. “ _And_ my promise to you.”

Mulan frowned, looking between the two of them once more. They were glaring at one another, each determined to force the other into concession. “You could do both…?” she suggested with a hopeful smile. “I mean, you guys will only be gone for a few years. When you come back, he could stay in Tianshui!”

Zhu looked away from her, cheeks burning. Mulan thought it was because she was embarrassed by not coming up with such a simple answer. As she quickly learned, however, that was _not_ the case.

“…Mulan…we…won’t be coming back,” Shang told her, voice quiet.

She froze. “Wh-what…?”

“We won’t be coming back,” he repeated.

Her face paled. “You—You’re joking, right?” She let out a nervous chuckle. “I know it’s a long journey, but it can’t be _that_ long of a journey.”

Zhu looked at her, guilt in her eyes. “No, Mulan. This is not a joke.” She rubbed the back of her neck, sighing.

Mulan’s eyes started to fill with tears. “Why didn’t—why didn’t either of you tell me this sooner!?” she demanded. She looked between the two of them again, anger and hurt on her face. “Or were you planning on not telling me? You were just going to leave me here, wondering how long it would be until you came back, weren’t you!?”

“That’s not it at _all_ ,” Shang told her, frowning. “I just—I just thought you…would have assumed we wouldn’t be coming back.”

“No!” she cried. “They way you talked about things, you made it sound like you’d be staying just long enough for the Huns to get an established settlement and then you’d come back!”

“That is why I wanted Shang to stay in Tianshui,” Zhu said, voice quiet. “To stay with you. So the two of you could be happy.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that, because I’m coming with you!” she snapped, glaring up at Zhu.

Zhu frowned. “Mulan—”

“ _Don’t_ you ‘Mulan’ me, Zhu!” she scolded, poking her, hard, in the middle of the chest. “I spent five years thinking you were dead! And now, just a few months after I get you back, you’re telling me you have to _actually_ leave forever!? Do you honestly think I’m going to let you leave me again!?”

“But what about your family?” Shang asked. He knew he shouldn’t have been so shocked by her reaction, and yet, he found himself staring at her in awe. “You can’t just leave them behind!”

She swallowed hard, her knuckles white as she clenched her fists. “Then I’ll—I’ll—” A sob escaped her mouth, breaking the dam she had tried to keep pent up. Before Zhu could react, she clung onto the taller woman, gripping the back of her tunic and sobbing against her chest. “You can’t leave,” she choked out, voice muffled. “You _can’t_! I only just got you back!”

Zhu hesitantly wrapped her arms around Mulan, hugging her. She was filled with guilt and anger at herself for being too cowardly to tell this to her sooner. “I do not _want_ to leave,” she spoke, voice quiet. “Truly, I don’t. I thought I had finally found a place to call home. A place where my friends and family were all at and were all happy. If—If I could change things, I _would_ make it so we could stay. But—but I cannot risk my sisters being found by the princes.”

Shang let out a quiet sigh, his eyes closing. He, too, felt guilty for not telling Mulan sooner. Seeing her crying like this only made him feel worse. “I’m going to stay in Tianshui,” he quietly declared. “If I stay, then she’ll at least have one friend here with her.”

Mulan turned her head slightly, just barely able to see him overtop Zhu’s bicep. “But,” she sniffled, “I want _all_ my friends with me. You, Zhu, the goofballs, the princesses. _All_ of them.” She sobbed and buried her face against Zhu once more. “But I can’t leave my family…”

“You won’t need to.”

Startled, Zhu jumped; instinct made her bring Mulan closer to protect her from potential harm. But once she saw that it had been Fa Zhou who spoke, she eased up. How long had he been there, though? Had he been listening from out of sight?

“F-Fa Zhou,” Shang stammered, also taken by surprise. “What do you mean, sir?”

Zhou stepped into the room and reached a hand out, setting it on Mulan’s shoulder and giving it a slight squeeze. “I mean that my daughter will not need to worry about leaving the three of us behind because we will be coming with you.”

Mulan pulled back, her eyes wide. “You—you are?”

He nodded. “You are not the only one who doesn’t want to leave her friends,” he gently teased. “Your mother and I have already discussed it with Lady Zhi.” As Mulan hugged him, he balanced his weight on his good leg and hugged her with both arms.

A sigh of relief left Zhu’s mouth and she plopped down on the stool. She sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Earth mother as she rubbed her face. A hand came to rest on her shoulder and she peeked out from between her fingers, finding Shang leaning over and giving her a reassuring smile.

“This isn’t the best of situations,” he said, “but at least we won’t be going through it alone.”

Too overwhelmed by various emotions racing through her head, she merely smiled and nodded tiredly.

Mulan stepped back from hugging her father, using her sleeve to wipe her eyes and nose. “Now that that’s been solved,” she said, voice still shaking a bit, “is there anything _else_ you two haven’t told me about this journey?”

 

~*~

 

It was before dawn.

In the courtyard, two of the remaining oxen had been hitched to the wagon. It wasn’t nearly as packed as it had been before; it carried only necessary supplies. Everyone, however, been allowed to bring one trunk of unnecessary items—things like extra cooking utensils, Ling’s paints, or some of the Fa Family ancestral stone guardians.

Beside the wagon, the carriage was ready to go as well. The last of the remaining oxen, as well as a freshly-purchased ox, had been hitched to it. Inside, it carried the Fa Family—including Little Brother—and Shang, who was still too injured to ride.

“Is everyone ready?” Zhu asked, squinting through the darkness at everyone. She, Mulan, and the lieutenants were all clad in their armor and had their weapons within easy reach. Zhi and the princesses, however, were dressed in men’s clothing and, with Chi-Fu, would be riding between the wagon and the carriage for extra cover.

“I think so,” Ling said, turning around and checking to see if Yao and Chien-Po were behind him. The three of them took up the flank of the group while Mulan and Zhu covered the front. “Yeah, Yao and Chien-Po are in position.”

“Mother?”

“Yes, dear, we’re ready as well,” Zhi said. Her voice sounded hoarse; Zhu knew it was because she had spent most of the night crying.

“Then…it is time for us to leave.” Zhu let out a quiet sigh as she brought Umut around to face the gate. Like everyone else, she hated that they had to leave. Staying in one spot without worrying about traveling every few weeks had been so nice. And, as much as she hated to admit it, living inside a house had grown on her a bit. It was definitely quieter during intense weather than a yurt was…

Now she had to forget all of that. It was time for her to stop being Chinese. She had to become a Hun again—to become Shan Zhu again. But this time, she _wouldn’t_ be Shan Yu’s coldhearted killer of an heir.

No.

This time, she was going to be a kindhearted queen.

 

**_To be continued in Daughter of Life_ **


End file.
